Soul Bound
by Sasha Dimierez
Summary: Being Soul Bound means having a soul mate. Having a Soul Mate means the MoM deems you "Dangerous" and orders your death. Harry is Soul Bound. He's also considered the Savior of the Wizarding World. What's a MoM to do? SLASH, AU, Slytherin!Harry
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **For entire story here on out, please note: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER! *cries* you happy now?

**AN:** I'm not sure how many people will actually read this but just a few warnings before hand. This story is very AU and as such, the prophecy has been altered slightly from canon for my own evil purposes. This will also be SLASH (male/male in a sexual relationship)! If you're not into that then hit the back button now. This is rated M for a reason (though that reason won't come until later). This is just the prologue so please excuse the short chapter. The next chapter should be longer. Also, this story hasn't been beta read so if you catch something I missed, let me know so I can fix it. :)

**Soul Bound**

_The one who will conquer true Evil__ arrives_

_Born to those that have thrice defied him_

_And gifted with death touched eyes_

_With a power the world knows not_

_The balance of life will lie in his hands_

_For neither may live while the other survives_

_The one with the power to conquer true Evil_

_Will be born as the seventh month dies_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not a kind man by any stretch of the imagination despite how others had come to see him. He was more manipulative then any Slytherin could ever hope to be and was utterly callous in his planning, uncaring of who he dragged down as his pawns. His logic was only of what _he_ alleged as "right" and not what others had come to believe. For Albus, everything he did was done "for the greater good" and it was not always clear _whom_ that greater good spoke of.

The British Ministry of Magic almost always went along with Albus's plans for it was the principle of it all that mattered. The people trusted Albus, and if the Ministry followed his example the people would in turn trust _them_. So, when Albus declared Soul Mates to be a danger to society, the Ministry backed him 110 percent of the way. Some would argue later that the extra 10 percent would lead to their downfall.

Taking it into their own hands, the Ministry ordered the Unspeakables to develop a way of tracking the Soul Bound in order to systematically eliminate them from the Wizarding World. While Albus did not openly condone their actions he did not ridicule them either and a law was soon put in place to allow the Unspeakables to continue their research. Eventually, they developed a book that would scan the wizarding world for newly born Soul Bound, recording their names, parents and places of address. It was very similar to the book Hogwarts had used for many generations, keeping track of newborn Witches and Wizards. Unfortunately, they could never seem to track any _older _Soul Bound; they assumed it had something to do with their, obviously, dark magicks.

Unbeknownst to the majority of the wizarding world, the Ministry began sending out Unspeakables to collect these infants. The child, who was seen as no better than a wild beast, would be killed on sight and any involved in its birth were obliviated, their memories altered to recall a stillborn in place of the Soul Bound.

Most who found out the true nature of these deaths would never claim it was cruel or wrong. For one, Soul Mates were incredibly rare to begin with, though the Ministry had never really thought over this fact. There were only one or two born every year and some of them would never have made it past their first few years to begin with, the call of their Bonded too much for their frail bodies. So, those people would reason, it wasn't as if they were wiping out an entire _race _of beings. Of course, it certainly helped that these _creatures_ were considered dangerous and evil.

The second, and possibly most important reason no one questioned them was simply for the fact that they were terrified. They were in the middle of a war after all. A war, in which Dumbledore had shredded, stunted and stretched the truth beyond recognition all for "the greater good." But the people trusted Dumbledore's word and so, if Dumbledore did not trust these beings, then they would not either.

However, Dumbledore's reasons for wanting them eliminated had nothing to do with how many there were or even whether or not they were truly evil. In fact, it had only to do with the fact that they were all much more powerful than him. If any Soul Bound decided to revolt against him, if any of them were to join Tom's ranks, well he just couldn't let that happen. After all, he had the Wizarding world right under is wrinkled old thumb and he intended to keep it that way.

Ah, yes Tom. Now he was another problem altogether. For the only reason Albus even knew of the Soul Bound was through this man. This man who had once been a small, slightly underfed, frail boy who hadn't a clue of anything in the wizarding world until _after _he'd received his letter. Of course Dumbledore had taken the lad under his wing! After seeing just how great the boys' powers were he couldn't just leave the boy to his own devices. Tom had far too much potential. He had to be kept in check.

Albus was many things but a fool he was not. There were already revolutionaries staining his perfect, ideal world. Grindelwald had been dispatched, sure, but his followers were all still out there, breeding mini-followers and brainwashing the neutral. Given the wrong sort of push and Tom could easily join them. Albus had no idea he was creating the very thing he had set out to destroy.

Of course, once the boy had slipped beyond his grasp, Dumbledore couldn't let Toms _true_ allegiances get out; people might actually begin following him if they knew what his _real_ plans were. So, in order to regain control of the situation, Dumbledore began to slowly build up the Wizarding Worlds hatred of all things different. Werewolves were evil creatures that raped small children and killed for sport. Vampires were disgusting fiends who had no emotions and were merely parasites. And Voldemort, oh he was certainly the worst of them all wasn't he? According to Albus, the Dark Lord planned on eliminating Muggles and Muggleborns alike, to rid the world of their "dirty blood" and take over in their stead. It was a scary notion, and one that played out just as Dumbledore had hoped it would.

The Wizarding World became terrified of this man and those that would follow him were condemned just as well. A single spoken word against the Ministry of Magic was punishable by Azkaban and actually being convicted of following the "mad man" boasted a death sentence. It was scary times they lived in and no one of the "light" side had any idea that they had all been horribly deceived by the very man they followed. Dumbledore, however, was happy to note that almost the whole of the Wizarding World would throw down their lives to fight for his cause. And to him, it _was_ a good cause, for he truly believed he was in the right. That Tom, if allowed to control the way things were run, would end up destroying the very foundation of their world. Dumbledore was very old fashioned and was convinced that the only reason their world had survived for as long as it had was for the fact that very little had changed over thousands of years.

Needless to say, when a prophecy spoke of a child who would conquer the Dark Man once and for all, Dumbledore was beyond ecstatic. He quickly wrote down the contents and called together an urgent meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Together, they deduced that the prophecy was indeed speaking of the downfall of Voldemort, though it was not immediately clear which child was the chosen one. The end of the seventh month undoubtedly indicated their birth to be at the end of July and the way the prophecy was spoken indicated it would happen very soon, perhaps even within that year.

They collected the names of all the women currently pregnant. From there, they narrowed it down to those few who would give birth around the end of July. After scanning through the names, Albus noted a certain couple almost immediately; James and Lily Potter. Suddenly, the prophecy made that much more sense. _"Born to those that have thrice defied him."_ It was not very well known that James and Lily had been spies since the beginning of the war. That was not to say that Albus trusted them, quite the contrary in fact. He was simply waiting for the opportune moment to get rid of them. The fact remained, however, that the two had given Albus "too much" information on several occasions, leading to raids on Deatheater homes and the capturing of many of Tom's followers. After informing them that James and Lily had, in truth been spying for him, the rest of the Order was quick to agree with their leader, Lily and James' child was the one the prophecy spoke of.

The existence of a prophecy was leaked to the press not but days after its initial reading, though the exact contents were kept a secret. Within hours, the whole of the Wizarding World were gushing over the birth of their Savior, wild celebrations lasting long into the night. The amount of hope that came with this single child was enough to make them believe they'd already won the war and the following months passed with baited breath.

When Harry James Potter was born, the Wizarding World gave a silent sigh of relief, but things were not going as Albus had planned them. Barely months after his birth, three Unspeakables were dispatched to the Potter home. Harry Potter was Soul Bound. The Minister of Magic, after realizing just who the boy was, quickly signed the forms that would allow the boy to live and sent along his most trusted Auror to intercept them. The Auror, being a member of the Order of Phoenix as well, contacted Albus directly after confronting the three other Wizards. After validating the papers the Unspeakables left without a fuss much to Albus' relief but there was still the mater of the child. The Minister would hold his tongue that much he knew. The man was quite fond of Albus though it would be difficult to keep him in office much longer. The Unspeakables were sworn to secrecy, so they wouldn't be telling a single soul simply because doing so would destroy their magic, killing them instantly. Keeping Harry's status a secret would have been an effortless task, that was if Albus didn't have to worry about the parents finding out.

Albus knew Harry would have been a target for Voldemort from the very beginning due to the nature of the prophecy. He'd anticipated that Tom would have attempted the boys' murder and had planned to keep him in a safe house with his parents. He'd hoped Harry's parents, seeing that their only child was destined to destroy the evil man they worked for, would change their ways and come back to the light in order to protect their first born. Now, he realized this simply wasn't a good plan. Harry was Soul Bound, a fact he would do anything in his power to keep from the public. Unfortunately, it was far too likely that both parents would eventually realize what their son was and he simply couldn't let that information find its way into Tom's hands. For if Tom knew Harry was Soul Bound, he would not want to kill him; he would want to turn him.

It was far too easy to sneak into the Potters home. Their wards were weak; they hadn't a privacy charm or untraceable charm in sight. Not to mention, they wouldn't have attacked Albus had he simply strolled through the front door anyhow. Dumbledore was notoriously prone to stopping by at random intervals after all.

As it was, none of this was important anyway. The exhausted parents had already settled down for the night and wouldn't have heard it if the back end of their home had suddenly collapsed. They wouldn't have woken to the sounds of creaking steps or the groan of their door as it swung open on rusty hinges. They wouldn't have heard the softly muttered words of a murderer as he uttered the darkest of all curses. They never would have seen the sickly green flashes as they streaked across the room to devour their targets. They would never have been witness to the bleary cries of two month old child who'd awoken feeling suddenly as if he'd lost something very dear to him. No, James and Lily Potter were ignorant of these things and a quickly cast Morsmordre assured that the rest of the world would be just as ignorant, seeing it only as an act against their Savior committed by the Dark Lord himself...


	2. Home Sweet Home

**AN: **_I'm sure you all realize by now, even after only reading the first chapter, but this story will be incredibly AU (alternate universe). Please keep this in mind while you're reading and refrain from sending me comments declaring such things as "that's not possible!" or "that's not how it happened!". For the sake of my plot, that's exactly how it happened. x3 _

_For any who may wonder, the whole fiasco with Dobby's magic getting Harry in trouble doesn't exist in my story. If you do magic without a wand, you can't be caught. It's under my impression that the only reason Harry was "caught" in the first place was because the Ministry would have been closely monitoring his home purely because he was the boy-who-lived. _

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**Chapter One:**

**Home Sweet Home**

The Minstone Building was a small, baron building that sat on the far corner of Palmer and Caxton not but fifteen paces from the London Underground. It was a rather old building with weather worn bricks that were chipped and mismatched. Parts of its roof seemed to have collapsed and the debris littered the stoop below. The windows, what few were still intact, were covered in a thick layer of grim. The paint on the trimmings peeled off in great clumps and had taken on a rather sickly yellow-grey tint that didn't seem possible to passerby. The front door was a dark, ruddy brown but it too had taken on a strangely grey hue after years of disuse.

At least, this was what the Muggles of the area would claim, as they passed by the building without so much as a second glance. The Ministry knew, of course, that once one passed_ beyond_ the charms set in place, it was quite a regal building that sang of London's stately beginnings. The trim was a pristine white that shone happily in the setting suns rays, the door a deep and luscious maroon that off set the red bricks quite nicely. If one would just ignore the bars that crossed over the windows, it could almost be described as elegant and inviting.

Harry, however, found the entire building reminded him strongly of a prison.

"Come along then, Potter. You know I hate to dally." The ten-year-old in question barely reined in a sneer at the mockingly sweet voice Dolores always acquired in his presence. Instead, he schooled his expression into one of calm indifference and followed the obnoxiously pink swathed women into an equally obnoxious pink foyer.

The building had been confiscated by the Ministry years ago, though Harry wasn't quite certain why this was. Regardless, it had been thoroughly cleaned out and given to Dolores when the Minister had assigned _her_ the task of raising young Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World. Harry often wondered if they Ministry truly considered him their Savior or if they'd changed that title to whipping boy over the years.

When he'd arrived at Minstone at the very tender age of just fifteen months, Dumbledore having tried and failed to keep him with his Aunt and Uncle when the old Minister was replaced, he'd been too young to even know what a rule _was_, let alone understand when they were rattled off sweetly by a strangely frog like women. Unfortunately, no one had bothered to give him that list in full as he'd grown older. Thus, Harry had learned the hard way what was and wasn't allowed in Dolores' makeshift home. And aside from the few Tutors the Ministry sent to teach basics to Harry, the small brunette taught _himself_ most of the lessons he'd acquired over the years.

At four, he'd discovered that touching anything that had not been strictly acknowledged as _his_ was _never_ a good idea, especially if the item in question had kittens on it. What a grown woman was doing with so many pink, kitten emblazoned plates and nick-knacks was beyond Harry but the query had led him to his second unspoken rule.

Never, under any circumstances, ask stupid questions. Of course, being so young, Harry hadn't been quite sure what a _stupid_ question was and so he'd re-learned that rule several times before finally coming to a conclusion: Any question that _Harry_ spoke was stupid, regardless of its contents. From then on, Harry mentally rewrote that rule to simply state: Don't ask questions, period.

At five, Harry learned about the many different types of quills the Wizarding World had to offer. He practiced writing with a friendly old man that called himself Mr. Reynolds and discovered it was something that came quite easily to him. He also learned from Dolores that not _all_ quills required ink to write and became strangely averse to any quill that appeared to be black in color. Mr. Reynolds never questioned him. Almost seven months after being introduced to said quill, Harry learned that poor handwriting made it harder to read the condemning scar that marred his left hand._ I will not break rules. _Mr. Reynolds was only marginally suspicious when Harry's tidy handwriting became more of a messy scrawl.

That same year, Harry learned that there were little creatures called House Elves that cleaned and cooked for the average Wizard. Despite this fact, since he was _not_ average by any stretch of the imagination, Dolores required that_ he_ do the cleaning the House Elves would have otherwise been occupied with. And so, Harry would clean the Minstone building on a regular basis from top to bottom and everywhere in between. Oddly enough, he didn't have access to the forth floor and thus, could never truly "clean the whole house" as Dolores ordered, all to build character of course. In fact, the only entrance on that floor was locked, clearly holding something Dolores and the Ministry did not want him to see. This thought only served to make him all the more curious and if it weren't for the words scribbled across his hand, he would have already been privy to its contents. As it was, he was far too worried about obtaining new scars to really want to attempt it.

At age six, after another Ministry official became alarmed at the scar maiming his hand, Harry learned that there were potions that could make even the deepest of scars virtually disappear. With that knowledge in mind, he came to a decision regarding the forbidden floor, waiting until late into the night before sneaking onto the fourth floor terrace. The door, which he'd swore had been locked when he'd first discovered it, had clicked slightly under his touch and swung open on rusty hinges. That same night, Harry discovered that there were hundreds upon thousands of books beyond that which the Ministry had deemed _appropriate_ for him to read.

Later that year, Harry discovered that healing was not the only quality a potion could hold. There were far nastier, trickier and altogether more _gruesome_ concoctions to be had. There were poisons that would boil the drinkers insides or slowly eat away at their sanity. There were mixtures that took hours, even days, from memories and left one feeling lost and unstable. There were potions that forced the feeling of love onto another even if that feeling hadn't been there from the start. But the worst, as far as Harry was concerned, was an innocently clear potion, both odorless and tasteless that compelled the drinker to tell the truth no matter the question. Harry was paranoid by nature, certainly, but if not for Dolores "special" tea, Harry wouldn't have imagined others spiking his food or drink. From that day forward, Harry made another vow; he would never, under _any _circumstances, ingest anything he didn't prepare himself.

Therefore, when a ministry official asked if he'd like a potion to correct his eyesight, Harry was torn. On the one hand, the glasses Dolores had gotten for him were obnoxious and he'd always felt they hindered him more then helped. On the other hand, taking a potion from the official and drinking it would be going against one of his many rules, something Harry truly didn't like having to do. And so, under the pretence that he was simply curious about the whole process, Harry asked if he could assist the man in making the potion. It was a win-win deal, the man would get to tell all his buddies that _he'd_ helped the-boy-who-lived, and Harry could watch every step of the potion like a hawk, insuring it was made exactly as it was meant to be. Thankfully, the potion worked beautifully and Harry happily snapped the gaudy mauve-taupe frames in half and handed them to Dolores, whose smile resembled more of a grimace.

After reading through several thick tomes, struggling slightly at some of the more advanced vocabulary and theories, Harry learned that shrinking charms made hiding books in his room far easier and that the floorboard just to left of his window was slightly loose and could house a good many shrunken books with very little trouble at all. He also discovered, after practicing in the abandoned fourth floor library, that while simple charms, such as shrinking and lighting, were easy without access to a wand, the others were _very _tiring. Indeed, he once spent an entire afternoon counting the dust particles as they drifted past the splintered old windows, simply because he couldn't bring forth enough energy to lift himself up after a particularly wearisome spell casting.

At age seven, Harry began to understand some of the more complicated wordings held within the many pages and suddenly, the rest of the library appeared to be far more then just shelves of mere _books_. Before him sat an endless source of knowledge; all the things the Ministry refused to acknowledge. Before him sat hours upon hours of productive study time during what _would_ have been mind-blazingly, boring afternoons when Dolores was busy kowtowing at the Ministry.

The books on the British Ministry of Magic were particularly enlightening and Harry had begun to speculate that the previous owners of the house were just as _fond_ of the organization as he was. Namely, the leather bound volumes hadn't a single positive thing to say on the matter. The wands made in Britain were what worried him the most. Unlike other parts of the world were the _parents_ deemed what a child could and couldn't cast outside school, the British had developed a charm that would track and monitor any underage wand given out. What's more, the only way to remove those charms was to go directly to the ministry in person to apply to have it removed. The entire ordeal was so much of a hassle that most Wizards didn't even trouble over it; some of them weren't even aware that it could be removed in the first place. This, of course, meant they'd be continuously monitored by the Ministry of Magic for the rest of their lives without being any the wiser.

It was a very scary notion.

For the next few years, Harry read a countless number of books all ranging from Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions to Pureblood Wizarding Tradition and Politics. Several very interesting tomes on the Dark Arts had made their way to his hidden nook as well. To Harry, it was _all_ knowledge regardless of topic and he soaked it all up as a sponge would. Of course, out of spite for the very people that had housed him all his life, Harry enjoyed the most, topics he knew the Ministry would be very much against. He found their blatant hatred of these _dark_ arts to be quite ignorant as they weren't truly dark at all. The greatest majority of those spells were actually the first and more pure form of some of the spells more commonly used among the so called _light_ Wizards. In fact, he found that studying those arts actually tended to make other areas of magic easier to understand. After reading several volumes, everything else just seemed to click into place like a well mapped out puzzle.

As far as the Ministry of Magic could see, Harry was a very fast learner and their teachers were some of the most gifted in Europe. Harry couldn't be bothered to inform them that most of the information he knew hadn't been taught by the Tutors they had sent. In fact, if pressed to remember, Harry wouldn't have been able to tell anyone _what_ those Wizards had been trying to teach him. He learned early on that anything they taught was altered extensively from the more powerful, original spell and he'd given up actually learning anything from such a resource ages ago.

The Tutors and Ministry workers had their own rules and observations concerning their Savior. They learned that Harry was a very quiet boy and never spoke unless spoken too. He never asked questions and was a very hard worker; looking up the answer to anything he didn't understand. His teachers all found this to be a _wonderful_ trait to have as it lent him a sense of independence he wouldn't otherwise have. Harry let them think what they would, as it kept them out of his hair.

They learned to never touch him, as even a casual touch seemed to make the small child very uncomfortable. It might have seemed like something of that nature would set warning bells off in most people's minds, but the Ministry workers believed it to make perfect sense. After all, the boy had lost both parents hadn't he? He'd never really _known_ the touch of a mother or father. Not to mention, Dolores wasn't exactly fond of children and it was debatable as to why she'd gotten the _privilege_ of raising young Harry to begin with. But, like all good little pawns, they simply never asked. Besides, he was still young, surely he'd get over it once school started in? So, like most things about Harry that didn't quite add up, they pushed their doubts and concerns to the side, ignoring the problem entirely.

For this reason, strange though it was, his Tutors simply knew to avoid black quills for both themselves and for Harry. They did not understand why this was needed and the one man that might have had inkling had been sent to St. Mungos several years prior, suddenly much less sane then he had been previously. It was swiftly labeled as a Death Eater attack and never looked into further. The only information they knew for certain was the fact that any quill with dark plumage caused Harry to become suddenly that much quieter and strangely unresponsive. As soon as the object was removed from his sight, he would blink a few times and act as if nothing had occurred. It was simply another mystery to add to that which was Harry Potter.

Each of them had learned, on their own time, that Harry never accepted food or drinks from others and would instead, make his own meals. Only one Tutor ever questioned these meals; a small petite woman by the name of Riska, who seemed to believe that as a growing boy, Harry should have been eating much more then she witnessed him consume. Harry merely brushed her off with a barely there smile and assured her he ate more then enough to fill up his smaller frame. For the most part, this seemed to appease her but she often gave him sideways glances when she thought he wasn't watching. For some reason, this bothered Harry more then the blatant disregard the others seemed to hold for him.

"Well? Don't just stand there, boy; take my coat!" Harry blinked several times, only just realizing his vision had been obstructed by a large, pink bundle of wool. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance but he gathered the cloak anyway, hanging it upon a hook just to the left of the door and not but a foot away from it's toad like owner. The women in question gave him a self satisfied smile and turned on her heal, ignoring him completely and heading towards the kitchens. Harry followed, like the good little boy he was, but his mind was elsewhere entirely.

For, at midnight that very night, Harry would be turning eleven.

He was not preoccupied with the thought of receiving his letter. No, he'd gotten that the week before, along with a list of supplies and books he'd need for his first year at Hogwarts. He was not preoccupied with the thought of retrieving said supplies. After all, Dolores, the gem that she was, had already gone through the_ trouble_ of gathering them herself. He'd been slightly alarmed at the number of fuzzy pink quills and scented inks the woman had stumbled upon. Not to mention the journal that looked like something an eight year old would own; an eight year old _girl_ that was. Harry rolled his eyes at the thought, thankful his back was to the woman as he began making dinner on autopilot. No, none of these things were what raced through his mind as he barely kept himself from burning the kippers Dolores was so fond of.

Harry, very simply put, could not stop thinking of wands. The Minister had not wanted Harry to receive his wand until after he'd turned eleven. After all, he had no use for it until then anyhow, did he? No ten year old could possibly learn enough to actually _cast_ a spell, especially with the limited amount of information he'd allowed Harry access to. And since no child could possibly cast _wandless_ magic, well, there certainly wasn't any worry about that was there?

Though, contrary to most children his age, Harry was not _excited_ to get his wand but worried. He knew that the wands would have tracking and monitoring charms on them. It wasn't so much the monitoring charms that concerned him however. After practicing as often as he had, he'd learned how to channel his magic without the aid of such things, so any spell he didn't want them to know about he would simply need to cast wandless. The tracking spells were just a bit more alarming and wouldn't allow him much in the way of privacy. He could always leave his wand behind but it would be suspicious if he appeared to stay in one place for too long, not to mention he didn't plan on anyone finding out he could cast wandlessly to begin with so using his wand during school was a must.

Harry sighed but was startled out of his musings by a sharp smack to the back of his hand. The sudden sting made him drop the spatula which clattered noisily against the pan. Glaring down at the offending noise he realized he'd burned the fish despite his earlier notion not to. Dolores hadn't actually hit him herself, but had instead used a wooden spoon he'd set off to the side before he'd started the meal.

"You know the rules then; up to your room." Dolores sing-song voice grated on his nerves as she chirped out the newest rule. Harry was meant to cook dinner but if he burnt the food, he went without, regardless as to when he'd last eaten. Not really feeling hungry to begin with, Harry obediently left the kitchen without so much as a word, making his way to the second floor and in turn, his bedroom.

The room was rather bland with its hardwood floors and the dark blue damask wallpaper looked as though it had been there as long as the house had. The small four poster bed sat against the left wall, its side directly in front of the door. A single armoire sat on the opposite wall to the door but it wasn't quite centered due to the smaller size of the room; it sat close to the far right wall opposite the bed. A matching, dark oak wood desk was against the far right wall, adjacent to the armoire and beneath the only window. It too was off center but for a much different reason; Harry had positioned it for easy access to the loose floorboard he'd found years before. Aside from the matching chair for the desk, his room was strangely empty, especially for a young boy his age. There were no toys, no clothes strewn about and the only things decorating his desk were a few bits of parchment, a pale green quill and a first year charms book. The book was left out for the sake of appearances, to make Dolores assume he was studying only what the Ministry had wished him too. The newest addition was the old, dark mahogany trunk that held within his school supplies but since it wasn't a permanent fixture in the room, Harry didn't really give it much thought. It sat beside the door, slightly off to the side, though still accessible for last minute packing when September first arrived.

Harry sighed in annoyance, shutting the door with his foot and making his way over to the desk. He'd be glad to get away from Dolores, that was certainly true but he still wasn't quite sure how he felt about Hogwarts. The books he'd read on the school only talked about the founders and how the school was originally run. He knew for a fact that half the classes the school had once held were long since declared dark or unnecessary and so, he couldn't honestly see it being any better than his current situation. Only, he wasn't even certain he'd be able to get a hold of any useful knowledge once he arrived there. It was for this reason he currently had several large tomes hidden under the loose panel of the floor, waiting to be stored in a secret slot in his trunk. He couldn't risk putting it there early lest Dolores or one of the other Ministry officials decide to "check" to make sure he had everything.

Crouching slightly, Harry pulled up the board to retrieve a thin, tattered book bound with a leather cord. Despite its ragged appearance, or perhaps because of it, Harry had spotted the small volume as soon as he'd reached the shelf it had been placed on. It had taken him almost a week to figure out which language the book was written in and another week had passed before he could find a good translation spell that wouldn't ruin the book. Unlike other enchantments for such things this spell would not be cast on the object but rather the caster. It would temporarily allow the caster to read, understand and speak a specific language. Unfortunately, it didn't seem very complete to Harry and had a lot of downsides. For one, whatever language was chosen would be the only language understandable for the allotted time. So, once Harry had cast the spell he could read the book fine, which was written in Welsh, but he could no longer understand English.

The short cast time was also an issue. The spell only lasted an hour, so using it when traveling would be pointless since casting it repeatedly in a short amount of time could lead to a lot of problems; going blind, going deaf or even becoming mute. Harry was actually looking for a way to improve the spell or perhaps create a new spell entirely using the same general idea. A spell that wouldn't replace the languages already known and would last longer then just an hour. Maybe even something that would last forever, though it sounded much easier then it was. The idea was something many had tried and all attempts had failed simply because it was too much information for the human mind to comprehend all at once.

The book told the tale of the original Excalibur, known then as Caledfwlch. It was not what Harry had hoped for when he'd found the foreign book but it was an interesting way to pass the time none-the-less. The tale was told much differently then what he was accustomed to. For one, Arthur never pulled the sword out of a stone; it's given to him by the Lady of the Lake. In fact, there wasn't too many similarities between the two as far as he could tell and he wondered if this was yet another case where history was drastically distorted to suit the needs of others; namely, Merlin in this case. He knew Merlin was indeed a real man and had at one time been a quite powerful Wizard but did that mean the story of Caledfwlch was real? Or was it simply a Wizard's fairy tale told to sleepy children long after the sun had gone down? It seemed too incredible to be real but then, Harry knew how strange and incredible the world of magic could sometimes be.

He was nearing the end of the tale now and though his eyes were becoming heavy he wanted to finish before heading to bed. Strangely, the name of one of the most important characters of the story didn't seem to want to translate over properly. It flashed through several languages, none of which made any sense to Harry, before settling on a simple description; Mother. It was odd, as Harry didn't think anyone in the story was related to the monstrous creature that guarded the swords final resting place but he figured it was just the closest the spell could come up with. It only gave him more reason to want to fix the faulty charm. He yawned as he flipped to the last page, holding his head up with his hand. Before he could reach the last paragraph, his body finally succumbed to a much needed sleep, his head cradled in his arms upon the desk.

_He was standing in a forest. The light of the midday sun streamed through the canopy above, casting a green glow throughout the wild growth. Pieces of pollen danced about the still air, looking for the entire world like tiny fairies as the light reflected off them. There were birds chirping happily among the branches of the trees, hopping from one to the other without paying him much heed. Wild, exotic flowers bloomed all around what was clearly a portion of forest untouched by man. In fact, judging by his surroundings, he assumed the entire forest was not accustomed to humans. There were no paths, no signs of anything being disturbed other than the area he'd just left. _

_Oddly, despite the beautifully peaceful surroundings, he did not feel safe. There was a sense of urgency in the air and a feeling of impending doom that made him react almost instantly, darting through the trees in his haste. For a moment, it felt as if he were being chased and he urged his tired body onward, barely flinching as branches took swipes at him from every angle. A wall of light was before him, signifying the end of the wooded area and with a quick burst of speed he pushed through the underbrush..._

Harry awoke with a gasp, sitting up in the still dark room and glancing around warily. Casting a quick, wandless _tempus_ he sighed when the numbers finally registered; 5:58 AM. It was close enough to the usual time he awoke so he stood with a groan, joints popping as they left the still position they'd been in all night. He got ready to shower on autopilot, his mind still focused on the strange dream he'd been having. The dream itself wasn't too odd. After spending all night reading a book that told the tale of a great adventure, it didn't seem too farfetched that he'd dream about something like a forest. No, what was odd was the fact that it was very different from the dreams Harry normally recalled. It wasn't often he remembered his dreams to begin with and when he did, they were always of the same blurry vision; a dark bedroom, a loud explosion that shook the very plaster off the walls and two sickly, bright green flashes of light before an explosion of horrible pain.

No one had ever told him how his parents had died, other than to say it had been You-Know-Who. Why Harry hadn't been killed was anyone's guess and Dumbledore's story of showing up in the nick of time didn't sit well with some of the more experienced Aurors. After all, it would have taken him several minutes to cross the yard, enter the house and mount the stairs and by that time, Voldemort would have already made it too Harry's bedroom and it would have been much too late. Of course, the largest percent of the populace believed he'd arrived in the bedroom just as Voldemort had begun his spell, fighting off the other man and rescuing the small infant. Harry thought the whole thing was a load of rubbish but he had no way of proving otherwise. The only thing he knew for sure was that something about Dumbledore just didn't sit right with him and he hadn't even met the man yet. Well, not counting when he was a small infant.

Harry finished his shower and quickly dressed in a pair of black slacks and a green top. Since he would be making an appearance in the public that day, he donned a black cloak over the top of the outfit before slipping on a pair of black boots. Hoping to grab a slice of toast before Dolores awoke; he swiftly made his way down the steps but was met at the bottom by the women herself.

"Good, you're ready. I figured we'd both leave now as I need to get to the Ministry early as it is." Harry groaned internally but followed Dolores out the door, the illusion falling into place just three paces from the door. They walked to the end of the block before turning into alcove hidden to Muggle passerby. Dolores snatched up Harry's arm in an unnecessary, firm grasp before apparating them both to the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron. She released his arm almost instantly, as if the very thought of touching him abhorred her. Harry rubbed absently at the spot her nails had dug into, vaguely wondering if there'd be a mark there later.

"Now then, Riska will be waiting for you in front of Gringotts. Don't make her wait." She chirped. Without waiting for him to speak she tapped the proper brick and headed on her way, quickly disappearing in the crowd. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, for once very thankful the women seemed to despise children, he of course being the worst of them all. Dealing with Riska's penetrating gaze was more than a far trade-off as far as he was concerned. Ignoring the curious looks sent his way, Harry stepped into the crowd as well, his smaller frame allowing him to easily navigate around the bustling town. He spotted the petite women almost instantly, her dark robe and hair in high contrast to the stark white building that was Gringotts. She smiled an eerie smile when he approached, hands clasped loosely in front of her.

"Morning, Miss Riska." Harry's polite mask had been firmly in place since leaving Dolores side. He smiled faintly then, noting that the women's curly brown locks were now cropped quite short and curled about her ears in a frizzy mess that only she seemed to be able to pull off.

"Good morning, Harrison." His smile only diminished slightly at the name. He'd tried correcting her before, saying his birth name was "Harry" and not "Harrison" but she insisted on calling him that. She claimed it made him sound like a Prince. He supposed it had actually been a compromise of sorts, since he continued to call her Miss when she'd asked him to simply call her Riska. Honestly, Harry didn't feel close enough to the women to refer to her in such away and she should have been happy for the fact that he'd finally stop referring to her by her last name; Summers.

He rolled his eyes as she passed him, hands still clasped in front of her like some deranged nun. All she needed was the Habit as opposed to her robes and she'd be all set, prudery and all. They made their way to Ollivander's in record time and Harry's earlier unease returned. This was it; he would finally be tied down to the Ministry in the most intrusive of ways. As if living with Dolores weren't bad enough.

"Aren't you excited to finally get your wand?" Harry glanced at her in disinterest, shrugging lightly at her bared teeth. He supposed that was meant to be a smile from her but in any case, his apparent lack of concern made her frown once more. He kept the appearance of cool apathy as he entered the building, Riska standing outside to wait for him, though his heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest at any moment. The chime from the door echoed off the shelves around him, the counter at the end unoccupied. Harry furrowed his brow slightly, wondering where the owner was. Normally he'd be able to locate when another Magical being was in his near vicinity but the hum of the wands was throwing him off balance. He nearly fell over backwards when an old man on a rolling ladder whipped around the corner.

"Ah! Mister Potter! I was wondering when I'd be seeing you." His pale eyes were wide with an odd gleam of knowledge that instantly set Harry on edge. There was something very off about the man before him and Harry watched as he smiled a shark's smile and went on about Harry's parent's wands while measuring the small brunette. He stopped suddenly, staring out the front window of his shop. "And, who is that with you?" Harry glanced that way as well, noticing that Ollivander seemed very perturbed by the thought that he did not in fact know the women.

"Riska Summers. She's one of my Tutors." The old man's eyebrows drew together in contemplation and for a moment he looked slightly alarmed before his cheerful demeanor from earlier returned and he began handing Harry wands at random. An hour, two broken vases, and several charred shelves later Harry wasn't certain any of the wands would fit him. He couldn't decide if it would make him happy or not. On the one hand, he hated the thought of being traceable by the Ministry but on the other hand, he was sure they'd think of something else that would probably have far more charms on it than anything in Ollivanders.

"Hmm, I wonder." Harry watched, bemused as Ollivander disappeared between a stack of shelves, returning with a wand box held in hand. "Try this one. Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches; nice and supple." Harry took hold of the wand and felt an instant warmth flow through his body, connecting with his magical core. Blinking a few times, he looked back up at the man whose eyes had widened in what could only be excitement. Just as the man went to speak, Riska entered the shop and interrupted.

"Got you're wand then, Harrison?" She turned to Ollivander, her eyes also gleaming as a cat would in the light of the shop. Harry wondered if his eyes looked the same or if there was something else afoot. The petite women briskly handed over the amount due and steered him back out the door. Harry wondered just what it was he'd witnessed take place but was startled out of his musing by a low growl. Riska's bell like laugh rang out as she motioned to his stomach. "Sounds like you could do with some lunch." For once, Harry couldn't agree more.

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**AN:** _Sorry about the long wait guys! And yeah, in case anyone wonders, you'll be seeing more of Riska in the future but don't worry! I hadn't really planned on making any other Original characters._


	3. Sorting Things Out

**AN: **_Phew! Finally finished the next chapter! Sorry for the wait guys._

_Yes, Harry still has his scar but if you paid close attention to the last chapter you'll have realized things aren't quite what they seem. It had nothing to do with being hit with a killing curse and you'll learn later what "Dumbledore's" excuse for the scar is. I sort of backtracked and realized it wasn't quite as clear as I'd intended it and changed a single word from the last chapter. When I said Harry wasn't harmed, I meant he hadn't been killed._

_If some parts of this chapter seem slightly familiar it's because I used the first book as reference. Since I want this story to remain in my writing style, I did not copy scenes verbatim, choosing instead to put my own twist on things._

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**Chapter Two:**

**Sorting Things Out**

Harry spent the remainder of the summer attempting to stay clear of Dolores. After retrieving his wand, his birthday had passed just like any other day. He was slightly surprised when not even Riska wished him well but then, he honestly wasn't sure any of his Tutors even knew when his birthday was since they'd never saw fit to wish him Happy Birthday before then. It was no matter to him; he couldn't remember having ever celebrated it to begin with. More often than not, he too forgot about the significance of the date.

When September first finally arrived, Harry waited until the last minute before quickly stowing several thick tomes in the hidden compartment of his trunk. The hidden latch was on the underside of the lid and could be slipped to the side quite easily. It was not the best hiding place but Harry felt it was far better than placing the books in the open with his other supplies. As an afterthought, Harry tossed the old Arthurian tome of Caledfwlch atop his school books. Since it was written in Welsh, he doubted it would cause much fuss and if anyone asked, he could just say he'd found it while cleaning one of the spare bedrooms on the third floor. He doubted they'd take it from him simply because they'd assume something lying about would have already been checked by the Ministry years ago. Not to mention, if any of them could read Welsh, they'd recognize the childhood fairytale immediately.

Checking one last time to make sure he had several casual outfits along with his school robes, he finally closed the lid. Running a pale hand over the clasp, he locked the bolt in place with a silent thought, the trunk glowing faintly gold for a moment before the magic settled in place. Sighing heavily, he grabbed the handle of the chest, gazing around his room. He wouldn't miss it, not really but it was the only thing he'd had to himself for the past ten years. He didn't plan on returning until he absolutely had to, which hopefully meant he'd be far away from Dolores until next summer at the very least.

A soft knock against the door frame alerted him to another's presence. He was not familiar with the man off hand, knowing only that he was another Ministry worker and a rather nervous one at that. The stout man stood now, wearing an awkward grey suit and wringing his hands in discomfort. He was only about a foot taller than Harry, a feat all in itself considering the strangled four feet the small child had managed to reach. His watery blue eyes glanced briefly into the room before he smiled warily back at Harry, rubbing his balding blond hair nervously.

"Have everything sorted then, Mister Potter?" Harry nodded slightly, watching with indifference as the man stepped forward to take his trunk, casting a quick feather-light charm as he did. "The train should be leaving in about thirty minutes." The chubby man glanced at him nervously once more before leading the way down the stairs, Harry's trunk becoming a wedge between them. The small brunette was only mildly curious to the man's behavior but it was, unfortunately, a rather common side-effect to his "so-called" fame and he merely reined in the urge to roll his eyes following the other out the doors at a sedate pace.

"Alright then. Minister Fudge has given us leeway to use a portkey into Muggle London." Nervous hands produced a small line of rope and gestured for Harry to grab the other end of it. Several seconds passed before Harry felt the familiar tug at his navel. A grimace crossed his features at the nauseating feeling before they were quickly whisked away. When they finally landed across the way from Kings Cross Station, hidden in a small alcove of a bustling Café, Harry barely managed to stay upright. His hand shot out instinctively, scrapping across the rough brick of the building. He hissed in discomfort, pulling his chaffed hand against his chest.

"Oh dear, let me heal that up for you, Mister Potter!" Harry jerked immediately away from the man's touch at his elbow but managed to keep his face impassive.

"I'll be fine, sir. It's just a little scratch." The man looked uneasy but nodded and continued forward. Harry wondered briefly if the man would get into trouble for having "harmed" the-boy-who-lived. He couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes then as they finally stopped between platforms 9 and 10. The balding man ushered Harry through first before following quickly after. Harry had only a brief moment to take in the sight before his escort caught his attention once more, nervously handing over Harry's trunk.

"I'm certain you can take things from here, Mister Potter?" Harry nodded in bemusement and watched the other scurry back through platform 9 and ¾ as if the very hounds of hell were on his heels. What on earth had made the man so nervous? He had practically been shivering in fear. Harry shook his head in bewilderment but made his way towards the train, the odd behavior being pushed to the back of his mind for the time being. Finding an empty compartment, Harry quickly stored his trunk before sitting down with a sigh. He watched through the glass as others began appearing, suddenly thankful they had left so early.

A family of six caught his attention almost immediately, even as the crowd started to fill out more; their matching red hair stuck out like a sore thumb. Harry frowned in thought, watching a matronly looking woman fuss over one of her youngest for a moment before he shifted his eyes from the sight in distaste. A small pang stuck in his chest as his emerald gaze settled on another family not too far off, an older girl and her mother tearfully embracing. He turned away from the window entirely then, crossing his legs and arms in annoyance and glaring at the other side of the compartment. He willed the uncomfortable feeling away, debating on taking down his trunk to find something to read. It would certainly be better then dwelling on his thoughts.

The rattling of the compartment door did well to shake him out of his inner musings and he looked on with his usual distant expression when the door finally opened, admitting a blond boy who looked to be the same age as him. Two others stood behind him, and Harry merely tilted his head at their size. It was hard to tell if they were older, or just unusually large. The blond scrutinized Harry as well, his expression also shuttered slightly but Harry could still see the curiosity within the silver depths. As if finding what he'd been searching for the other boy nodded slightly and shooed his cronies away. They obeyed almost instantly, flanking each side of the door. Harry arched his eyebrow as he looked on.

"Mind if I join you?" The boy's voice was smooth and controlled and Harry could tell instantly he'd grown up with more money than any one person could ever possibly need. His head automatically turned back to the other and he rubbed his bottom lip unconsciously as he thought. The other seemed polite enough and though he hated politics with a passion, it was always wise to make good acquaintances.

"Be my guest." He nodded to the opposite seat and the other boy sat with a flourish, a smirk lifting his lips slightly, as if he'd known the other wouldn't possibly refuse. Harry frowned slightly but said nothing on the matter.

"The name's Draco Malfoy." He presented. The name Malfoy was easily recognizable. He'd heard several Ministry employees utter the name throughout his lifetime and he instantly knew he'd managed to come across the heir of one of the most influential families in the Wizarding World. Things couldn't be going better if he'd planned them himself. He let a very faint smile cross his lips for a moment before speaking.

"Harry." Not wanting to let the other know who he was entirely just yet, he let the single answer stay as it was. If Draco noticed this, he did not mention it. The blond stretched back slightly, his arms thrown over the back of the seat.

"So, _Harry_." He drawled out the name with a smirk. Yes, he'd definitely noticed the lack of surname. "Which house do you think you'll be sorted into?"

"Not sure." He flicked his eyes away briefly, discomfited by the unwavering gaze of the other. He wasn't used to social situations, not by a long shot and having Draco's full attention on him was unnerving to say the least. "Either Ravenclaw or Slytherin." He shrugged lightly and turned his attention back to the other. Draco was still studying him just as intently.

"Yeah, I could probably end up in Ravenclaw too. Only, most Malfoys are sorted into Slytherin so I'm positive that's where I'll be." He stated proudly, his gaze finally shifting off the other boy. Harry barely kept himself from sighing in relief. He flexed his hand a few times were it rest in his lap, noting it had finally stopped bleeding. The movement must have caught Draco's eye because the other boy sat forward suddenly in his seat. Harry jerked back automatically before relaxing at the odd look his actions received.

"What happened to your hand?" His voice sounded disinterested but Harry saw the curiosity once more and had to agree with the boy's earlier statement, he could easily do well in Ravenclaw with that sort of inquisitiveness.

"Portkey accident. Bad landing." Harry realized how disjointed his sentence's continued to come out and closed his eyes in annoyance. He really needed to learn how to speak with others. After all, first impressions were quite important in the political world and so far, he couldn't see how Draco could possibly be even remotely impressed by him. He jumped in surprise at the cold grip on his wrist. His eyes snapped open and he quickly tried pulling his hand free but Draco was having none of it.

"_What_ are you doing?" Harry hissed. The blond scowled slightly and pulled out his wand, which only caused Harry to tense more.

"Merlin, Harry. Relax; I'm just going to close the wounds." That odd look was back, and Harry wondered briefly if the other boy could somehow read his thoughts. He pursed his lips and attempted to relax but didn't feel doing so could be even faintly possible with his wrist being held by the other. It was apparently enough for Draco, who cast a quick healing charm over the wound, watching as the skin stitched itself back together. Even after the wound had fully healed he held onto the wrist and Harry studied him nervously out of the corner of his eye. What felt like an eternity passed (though he was sure it had only been a few seconds) before Draco finally released his hand and sat back in the seat. Harry forced himself to pull his hand back at a normal pace instead of yanking it back as his instincts wanted him to. The strangely pleased look on the other boys face informed him he'd somehow just been tested and that Draco was very satisfied with the results of said test. Harry wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

The rest of the ride went relatively smoothly with Draco asking Harry random questions about his interests and such. These mostly revolved around which Quidditch team he liked more, or what position he thought he'd play best in and even a few thrown in concerning what classes he thought he'd end up enjoying. Harry had the sinking suspicion that every answer he gave the boy was filed away for some hidden test he was currently being quizzed with and though he could tell he was acing it spectacularly, it was still immensely annoying. Draco was very much his father's son, but he lacked subtlety and hadn't quite mastered the skill of hiding his emotions which shown now in undisguised intrigue. This, Harry felt, could actually play into his favor. It was obvious that Draco was very happy he'd sat in the compartment with the boy savior, and Harry had every intention of using that fact to his advantage. Though Harry hadn't actually given the boy his surname, he was certain Draco had figured out his identity about a quarter of the way into the ride. Having sat forward to adjust the uncomfortable position he'd been sitting in, Harry had noticed the surreptitious flick of the others boys eyes when his fringe had shifted just so. He'd also noticed the sudden smug glint to those silver orbs, as if he'd told himself beforehand of Harry's identity and had just been proven right.

Though it was tedious playing Draco's little word games, sidestepping answers that might have condemned him so-to-speak, Harry found that by the time the train pulled to a stop at the Hogsmead station he felt far more comfortable with his socializing skills. He no longer feared he was in danger of committing a social Faux Pas and his sentences had become less disjointed as their conversations had rolled by. Though, as Harry thought of this, he pondered that it might have appeared at first that he just wasn't that interested. This, also, seemed to be something that could play into his hands quite nicely. Harry didn't like politics, this was true, but he was beginning to realize the necessity of them, not to mention the fact that it seemed to be something he was actually quite good at.

The two boys had changed into their uniforms about halfway into the train ride and so, were of the first to leave the machines heavy rumbling. The sky was darkening quickly, making it harder to see anything on the small platform and Harry wondered briefly why they didn't change the trains' schedule. Wouldn't it have been easier, if there was still a bit of daylight to spare, in getting the students to the school? A loud, gruff voice sounded to the left, instructing the first years in that direction. Harry purposefully walked side-by-side with Draco, knowing that walking behind him would imply he was beneath him while walking ahead would imply the opposite. Draco smirked slightly at the subtle move, noticing it immediately. The hulking presence of the other two boys was quite noticeable behind them however, and Harry suppressed a roll of his eyes when other students moved out of the way at their approach. No, Draco definitely hadn't quite managed the art of subtlety.

Harry was startled by the image of the gruff voice he'd heard earlier. The first thought that managed to cross his mind as he took in the sight was that the man was absolutely enormous; impossibly so. His shaggy mane of hair combined with a bearskin coat brought forth only one other word to Harry's disgruntled mind; _wild. _If it hadn't been for the friendly grin that crinkled the corner of those dark eyes, Harry might have been alarmed by the picture the man made. As it was, he only furrowed his brow slightly in passing. Draco seemed to have interpreted the look far differently however and he leaned over slightly to whisper.

"Disgusting isn't it? A Half Giant! In a school full of children no less!" The pale boy curled his lip in distaste. Harry managed to keep his expression politely indifferent and Draco made no further comment on the matter. He actually planned on changing Draco's views in the near future, but it wouldn't do to push such things on the other so early in their acquaintanceship.

Hagrid, whose name Harry managed to catch in a whispered conversation beside them, led them down a steep slope that was nestled between two sections of what appeared to be a very vast forest. It was getting quite dark out the further down the hill they traveled and Harry actually stumbled once, to his immense irritation. The scowl that marred his face managed to get a chuckle out of Draco, who had been cursing not but a minute before over the peasantry act he was being forced to commit. The ground opened up then and Harry was finally given his first view of the castle that would become his sanctuary for the next seven years. Gasps and awed cooing sounded around them as the other students looked on beside them. Harry managed to hold in his approval and glanced at his companion, noticing in amusement that Draco was having a much harder time hiding his appreciation of the building.

It was quite the sight to behold truly, with its high towers and swooping turrets. There were long walkways between buildings with arcading column supports and elaborate carvings at odd intervals. And in the darkness of the night, the windows glistened and sparkled from the castles inner illumination and Harry suddenly understood why the train schedule was set as it was. As first impressions went, this was certainly a picture that wouldn't be leaving him any time soon. The rather large black lake that separated them from the castle made things rather daunting, however, when Harry finally noticed the many boats that lined its shore.

"No more'n four to a boat, now!" Hagrid called, as he gestured to the small fleet. Harry grimaced but clambered into the nearest boat despite his misgivings. Draco followed soon after, his goons trailing behind him like two rather large puppies. Suddenly, Harry felt very thankful for his smaller stature, realizing that had he been of average build the boat might not have taken all four of them as well as it was.

Hagrid climbed into his own boat, which was reserved just for him given his considerable girth and with a point of the man's umbrella, they were off. The boats rolled steadily across the glassy surface with barely a sound and the trip was far more peaceful then Harry had first assumed it would be. Though it was rather amusing when a chubby boy panicked, flying arse over feet into the water. The Half-Gaint scooped the boy up easily as he passed and the rest of the trip went in relative silence. When they finally reached the other side of the lake, the students scrambled warily out of their vessels to join Hagrid at a set of massive double doors leading into the castle.

He knocked three times and the doors creaked open to dispense a rather stately looking woman dressed in emerald green robes. Her black hair was done up in a stern bun and her lips were pursed together in a thin line giving her the appearance of someone that wouldn't easily be crossed. The two nodded amicably before Hagrid took off down the hall, disappeared around the bend. The women turned then to address the crowd of first years.

"Good evening, students. I am Professor McGonagall and I dear say you'll all be seeing plenty of me in the future." She didn't elaborate any further but Harry knew from his self updating copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ that she was the Deputy Headmistress as well as the Transfigurations teacher. Her piercing gaze swept over the group for a moment before she nodded slightly to herself. "If you'll please follow me." They followed her down the hall and just to the side of a large set of marble stairs Harry supposed led to the upper floors. They passed an immense set of double doors on the way that were only slightly smaller than the ones they'd entered through but she didn't stop there. Finally, they reached an empty chamber off to the side and crowded therein, most of the students huddled together in uncertainty. Harry didn't understand why they were so nervous. If they didn't belong at the school, they wouldn't have gotten their letters. When the students were all settled in, Professor McGonagall addressed them once more.

"First, let me start by welcoming you to Hogwarts." A brief, barely there smile crossed her features before it was gone, her stern countenance reappearing. "The Start of Term Banquet will begin shortly in the Great Hall beside us but before then you must be sorted into a house. Now, this may not seem too important but while you're here, your house will become your family of sorts. Whichever house you're sorted into will determine whom you sit with during meals, where you sleep at night and what common room you'll lounge in when you acquire free time.

"There are four houses in total; Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Each house has its own merits and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are here you will abide by a set of rules and a point system will keep track of your activities. Any achievements will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the house cup; a tradition and honor that has been in place for many centuries. Let us hope you all do your houses proud when the time comes.

"Now then, the sorting will begin momentarily. Since it will be in front of the rest of the school, I suggest you take a moment to neaten yourselves up."

Professor McGonagall frowned then, noticing the chubby boy who'd fallen into the lake earlier. He was still completely drenched from head to foot. She waved her wand with a short incantation that Harry recognized immediately, quickly drying the boy whose cloak now looked worse for wear. Tutting slightly, she left the chamber at a brisk walk.

"How do you think they'll sort us into houses?" A sandy haired boy with a very heavy accent whispered nervously to a rather gangly looking red-head. Harry recognized the red-head from the large family that had been on Platform nine and three quarters.

"Don't know really but Fred and George said it was some sort of painful test. I think they were just joking though." The red-head muttered just as nervously. Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes, something Draco must have noticed because the pale boy snickered beside him. It was a school, for crying out loud! As if they make an eleven-year-old child do something dangerous or painful. He was about to state as such when the doors swung back open and Professor McGonagall strode back in.

"The sorting is about to begin," She said sharply, effectively gaining the attention of the few students who had started to chatter among themselves. "If you will please form a single file line and follow me."

Harry had somehow managed to get in line directly in front of Draco, something that actually made him smile as he'd expected the boy to shove his way to the front. As it was, a bushy haired girl stood in front of him instead as McGonagall led them back down the hall, this time leading them through the large double doors they'd passed earlier.

The room they entered was quite large. There were four long tables where the rest of the students sat impatiently, no doubt waiting to finally be fed. The teachers sat primly at another table along the top wall, gazing out over the student body. Above each of the tables on the far wall, were tapestries depicting a lion, a snake, a badger and a raven and Harry guessed by the names of the houses which table belonged to its corresponding house. Thousands of candles floated above their heads, bobbing slightly in an invisible wind and even further up, Harry noticed that the ceiling had been enchanted to mimic the sky.

The small brunette was jostled out of his examining of the ceiling when the girl in front of him stopped suddenly, glancing at him when he looked back down. The other students crowded alongside them as Professor McGonagall stood near a four legged stool where a tattered old hat was perched.

"It's not really the night sky," The bushy haired girl remarked. She opened her mouth to say more but Harry beat her to it, slightly annoyed at the know-it-all attitude her words were coated in. He'd overheard her muttering earlier to another girl about all the spells and charms she'd already learned. He hated braggarts.

"I know. It's enchanted. I'm not stupid." The look on his face then must have been rather frightening for her mouth snapped shut audibly and she quickly turned to face the front once more. Draco, he noticed was watching him carefully, smirking in a superior way. That too was something that was beginning to aggravate Harry, but Draco could prove to be an invaluable ally so it was better to ignore his more bothersome traits, at least for the time being. Though, Malfoy was not the only other student watching him with hawk eyes. An exotic looking lad a few feet away was watching him under his dark fringe of hair. It was not as blatantly obvious as Draco was being but Harry caught the look none-the-less.

He jumped slightly when the rim of the hat pried open and a song spewed forth. Grimacing at the croaking accessory, he tuned out the majority of its wailing. It described the four houses in all of their glory but Harry considered the entire thing to be completely ignorant. Most of the adjectives used to describe the houses were things _most_ people had, not just from one house but from them all. The rest were things that could change as students aged. Splitting the students based on their current traits seemed rather irresponsible in the long run, considering they were still just eleven year olds. Actually, splitting the students to begin with sounded like a bad idea. Wasn't that how stereotypes were formed?

"When I call your name," McGonagall was speaking once again, her voice carrying throughout the hall. "You will take a seat and place the sorting hat on your head." Where, before, she'd been empty handed, now she held a long scroll between her hands. Harry tilted his head slightly as he examined the long nails at the ends of each of her fingers. He wouldn't have bothered normally but they looked rather sharp, almost like a cats. It was peculiar but not too odd in the wizarding world so he merely stored the information in the back of his mind.

"Abbot, Hannah!" The blonde in question stumbled up to the stool and put on the hat, which fell forward over her eyes. There was a moment's pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat exclaimed. The girl swiftly made her way to the applauding table and took a seat. The rest of the sorting continued in much the same way. Occasionally, Harry would spot a student he faintly recognized. The sandy-haired kid he'd seen from earlier, by the name of Seamus Finnigan, was sorted into Gryffindor after sitting beneath the hat for an entire minute.

"Granger, Hermione!" Harry snorted as the bushy-haired girl from earlier raced up to the stool and slammed the hat onto her head.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised.

Fairly soon it was Draco's turn and he smirked at Harry in passing before swaggering up to the stool. Harry shook his head in amusement and watched as the hat was lowered onto the platinum blond head. It was barely there a second before it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" When the boy caught his eye again, Harry let a very faint smile show through as he nodded at the other boy, who smirked and took a seat beside his two cronies. Suddenly, the boy's actions seemed to be much more than just politics. It was as if he was looking for Harry's approval. He furrowed his brow in contemplation. The Malfoys were a very proud lot, why Draco would want _his_ approval was beyond him. Unless of course he really had recognized him as 'the-boy-who-lived' and even then, wouldn't it have made more sense for the boy to want Harry pinning for approval from _him_?

There were only a few students left at that point and Harry noticed the dark skinned boy from earlier was among them. He paid closer attention as the rest of the students were sorted; curious about the name of this boy he'd caught staring. Since he was so young, the Ministry had done a good job up to that point of keeping his face out of newspapers and such so he didn't think the boy had recognized him. Then again, Draco had recognized him fairly quickly so the possibility was still there.

"Potter, Harry!" Harry started when his name was called. Suddenly, it was as if the hall were a fire being doused with cold water. The whispers, like the hissing of hot coals, spread out in an instant.

"Did she say, _Potter_?"

"...really him!"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

The whispers continued as he made his way to the stool and sat, crossing his legs automatically in his unnerved state. There were so many eyes on him; he felt like an experiment being poked and prodded at, he almost sighed in relief when the hat fell over his eyes effectively cutting off his image of the hall and, surprisingly, the whispers as well. It was completely silent for a moment and then a soft voice spoke in his ear.

"Hmm," He couldn't tell if it was speaking directly into his mind or if there was some sort of spell cast on it that let only the wearer hear its thoughts. "You have a very interesting mind, little one. Very different from the others." Well, it could obviously read his mind at least. He suddenly wished he knew Occlumency, it felt odd to know his mind was being read as easily as a book. A soft chuckle came from the hat. "No, no. If you had Occlumency, you'd have to lower your shields for me regardless or I wouldn't be able to sort you. Don't worry so much about that. I promise that nothing I say will be repeated from my end." It was a slightly comforting thought, but at the same time, it probably wasn't wise to trust the word of a hat. "You're very paranoid I see." Harry bristled slightly but the hat went on. "And cunning, oh yes. You certainly know how to get what you need but you don't often look for what you want." It paused then and Harry was beginning to feel like he'd been sitting there for ages. "Very intelligent too; a thirst for knowledge that not even a Ravenclaw possesses but no, I don't think you'd fit in there. They wouldn't understand you despite their intelligence. A lot of bravery as well." The hat paused once more and Harry suppressed the urge to fidget. "Hmm...but where to put you?"

_I don't care. _Harry's inner voice practically growled. _Just sort me already!_

"Not very patient are we?" The hat tsked. "Very well then — better be SLYTHERIN!"

The hat shouted the last bit to the hall and Harry quickly pulled it off his head, handing it to Professor McGonagall. The Slytherins were applauding politely but several of them looked to be in shock. _The-Boy-Who-Lived to be a Slytherin. _Harry thought sarcastically. Wouldn't the papers just gobble_ that_ up? He knew the reputation the house had, of course, but he had always thought it unreasonable. Besides, he'd come across an old diary at the Minstone building and though it didn't say much on the matter, what little bit mentioned of Voldemort made him wonder just how many of the facts the public knew were actually the truth. Since the Ministry had such a big hand in such issues, Harry guessed that it wasn't a high number.

He took a seat next to Draco, who was smirking rather widely now and even seemed to be sitting up a bit straighter. Harry ignored him for a moment, intent on finding out the exotic boys' name.

"Weasley, Ronald!" The tall, gangly red-head made his way to the stool, looking even paler then he had before and slightly green around the edges. A few moments passed before the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" And suddenly the boy was grinning ear-to-ear and not nearly as pale as he had been before. A set of red-headed twins clapped him heartily on the back when he reached their side.

"Zabini, Blaise!" The dark boy glanced briefly in Harry's direction but it was subtle enough that he was certain he was the only one to notice it. After only a few seconds under the hat, the decision was made, "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry was slightly surprised when the boy sat directly in front of him. He'd been so surreptitious about all his glances and coy looks that Harry was certain he'd at least sit several seats down. As it was, the boy was openly staring at him now and Harry felt gooseflesh break out over his body. He couldn't recall ever having anyone look at him so intensely and those eyes were extremely dark and penetrating. Harry felt like screaming when his body betrayed his emotions, the tell tale heat of a blush marring his cheeks. In an effort to seem nonchalant, he quickly looked back up at the head table, just in time to see Professor McGonagall leave through a side door with the hat and stool in hand.

Albus Dumbledore stood then, his garish bright orange robes clashing terribly with the sky blue stars that twinkled throughout. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the stars which clustered here and there before darting off to other sections of the clothing. Harry blinked watery eyes and looked away quickly, the shape of stars now temporarily burned into his retinas. He was too busy rubbing his eyes to notice the small smirk that suddenly filtered across Blaise's face.

"Welcome, students, to a new year at Hogwarts!" Harry avoided looking back up at the Headmaster, staring instead at the empty, golden goblet in front of him. A deep chuckled sounded in front of him and he glanced up to see that Blaise's gaze hadn't left his form yet but the boy was now smirking at him. It wasn't an unpleasant smirk and held actual humor in its depths as opposed to the haughty self-righteousness of Draco's. However, it was incredibly unnerving, though he didn't know why. He could tell there were a lot of other students staring at him as well, some of them even whispering behind their hands but somehow, none of them where quite as intense as Zabini. None of them made his hair stand on end and his toes curl in a strange sort of recognition. There was something about the boy, a sort of energy, and Harry couldn't have explained it if he'd wanted to.

Dumbledore spoke very little, not saying much of interest before clapping his hands dramatically. Following that, the plates and goblets filled with food and drink and students began to more openly speak to each other, the hall becoming alive with conversation.

"I should have known." Draco gave him a sly look as he loaded his plate with bits and pieces of food.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Harry spoke casually, staring at the food in trepidation. He'd made a vow not to eat anything he didn't make himself but Hogwarts made that impossible to follow. He'd have to eat _something_ or he'd starve entirely.

"Nothing, _Harry_." Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and grabbed a piece of bread. He furtively smelled the bread before taking a bite, hoping that the light odor of the bread wouldn't be able to cover up any potion aside from Veritaserum. It wasn't that he truly felt someone would poison him. No, maybe he did feel that way. Being Harry Potter seemed to have more downfalls then upsides as far as he'd learned. Dolores had made sure of that.

"So, you're the famous boy-who-lived?" A haughty female voice intoned.

"Actually, I usually go by Harry or Potter if you don't mind. Boy-who-Lived is a bit long winded don't you think?" Blaise chuckled again and when Harry glanced over, he noticed the boy had finally turned his attention elsewhere, smirking at the girl who'd asked the question.

"So subtle, Pansy. Have you no shame?" He teased and Pansy stuck her nose in the air before turning back to the girl at her side, a Millicent Bulstrode if Harry remembered correctly. Millicent rolled her eyes.

"I think it's a valid question," She picked at her plate as she spoke, earning a warning glare from Pansy who seemed to be trying to teach the girl manners. Millicent kept pushing the other girl away in annoyance, however and Harry didn't blame her. As far as he could see, Millicent wasn't doing anything outrageous, she just looked human. A quick scan up and down the Slytherin table showed many of the students setting their utensils down before they spoke. There were a few, like Millicent who didn't bother. Harry was slightly surprised he hadn't been chewed out for eating the bread with his hands, though that at least, seemed common place. "I'm sure Harry can understand why we'd be intrigued in his...allocation to our house."

Draco frowned then. "Does 'allocation' work in that context?" Millicent looked annoyed for a moment.

"Of course it does! He was _selected_ for our house wasn't he? It's the same thing." Draco thought for a moment then nodded.

"Fine, you get that one."

Pansy huffed in irritation, stabbing a green bean rather viciously. Harry looked on in bemusement. Blaise just laughed and turned to Draco, speaking in a teasing tone that Harry was beginning to suspect was a very common tone for him.

"You two still have that going? I thought you'd quit that ages ago."

It struck Harry then; the majority of the kids seated around him knew each other outside school. They'd grown up together, probably even studied together. They knew each other's families and had spent holidays and summers in each other's homes. Harry felt completely left out and that bothered him, mostly because he didn't _want_ it to bother him. He'd been alone his entire life; not in the physical sense no, but emotionally he'd never had anyone. He was used to it, so why was it bothering him _now_?

For the rest of the meal, Pansy ignored everyone around her, until they finally stopped attempting to drag her into conversation. Though Harry wasn't sure why she was so cross to begin with, it seemed rather abrupt to him and he couldn't actually think of a single moment where someone may have insulted her or angered her somehow. Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He would have to get used to these people. There was no rule that said he had to be best friends with them but it wouldn't do to completely ignore them. He held back a groan at the thought; Harry just simply wasn't used to socializing.

Nibbling on a piece of bread still, Harry left a part of his hearing open to the conversations around him, attempting to glean as much information about his house mates as he could without actually speaking to them. He scanned the head table with his eyes, using the gesture to appear as though he wasn't listening but locked eyes with one of the teachers in the process. The man gave him a very peculiar look that Harry couldn't quite interpret before turning away once more. The look was a mixture between curiosity and disbelief. Deciding, Harry turned back to his fellow Slytherins and waited for an opening to speak. When it came, he addressed the group as a whole.

"Who's the teacher on the far end? I don't really recognize him."

Pansy looked exasperated abruptly, as if she wanted to say something but didn't want to break the sudden vow of silence she'd taken earlier on in the meal. Draco gave Harry an odd look but answered, nevertheless.

"That's Professor Snape. More than that, he's our Head of House not to mention an extremely _well known_ potions master."

Understanding dawned on Harry. They expected him to already know these things. And while he knew the name of their Head of House, same as he knew McGonagall was the Deputy Headmistress, he had no way of knowing what they looked like. Neither of their pictures had been in the book. But this sort of information was something they assumed he should already know. It was, as Draco stated, common knowledge. He was a ward of the Ministry after all and had access to all things magic related; or so they assumed. He debated telling them the truth but Blaise beat him to it, seeming to sense his discomfort.

"I'm guessing you don't pay attention to Potions Journals or Current News?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

"Are you not hungry, Harry?" Draco seemed to finally have noticed how little Harry was eating.

"Hmm, I don't eat much really." He casually spoke. It wasn't really lying, he never usually ate that much but he _was _hungry. He'd have to find a solution to his food problem quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Blaise was watching him carefully once more and sighed to himself. Thankfully, dinner was drawing to a close and Harry watched as the last of the dishes disappeared.

Dumbledore stood up once more and gestured widely with his arms, Harry wasn't certain what he did afterward for he quickly turned away from the blinding sight of his robes. Hopefully, such outfits were not the man's daily adornment or Harry feared he'd go blind long before he graduated.

"Just a few last minute announcements before I let you on your way. First years, please note, that the forbidden forest is just that; forbidden. Our Caretaker, Mister Filch, would also like to remind all students that no magic is to be done in the corridors. He's taken the liberty of posting a new list of banned items on the front of his doors that he would like everyone to familiarize themselves with." He paused then and seemed to be eyeing a certain group of people at the Gryffindor table before he continued. "And finally, those of you interested in playing on your houses Quidditch team have only to wait for the second week of term. You'll be able to contact Madam Hooch at that point in time to have things set up accordingly. Now, bedtime! Chop chop!"

The sound of the students standing was atrocious, echoing off the walls as the students all made their way to the entrance hall at once. Harry walked beside Blaise and Draco as one of their prefects, Terence Higgs, led them down to the dungeons. The further they went the more confused Harry became. There were twists and turns, alcoves that at first glance looked like they were solid but actually led to other passageways. How anyone managed to not get lost was beyond him. Finally, they stopped before an empty brick wall. Harry blinked and glanced up and down the length of the hallway. He couldn't see any physical indication that anything was there, though there was an engraving of a snake on one of the stones it was something he'd seen periodically the entire trip down there.

"The password is, _Dolosus Indoles._" The wall opened up in much the same way Diagon Alley's archway did and the students filtered in one by one. Harry was briefly stunned. Not only was the password in Latin, but it was quite the tongue twister. He was thankful for his brief interest in the Latin language or he'd be completely lost the next time he wanted into the common room. Then again, judging by all the bends and turns they'd just encountered, he'd be completely lost regardless.

"If you'll just take a seat, our Head of House would like to speak before everyone settles in for the night."

Harry glanced around the dimly lit room. Though it was in the dungeons, it was not as cold as he thought it would be, a fire crackling merrily in the hearth. The walls were the same grey stone as the rest of the castle, the floors the same slate. There were black and green rugs thrown in periodic places, one of which sat before the large fireplace. The room was split into two sections. The left side was slightly higher than the right and housed a great many book selves along the back wall. There were three tables spread across the platform with eight chairs to each. On the right side, directly in front of the hearth, sat three overstuffed, black leather couches and in the center of the green rug was a low table. To each side of those couches, though several feet away, were arrangements of plush, green leather chairs. They looked to be more often used to just lounge around on since there weren't any tables in sight.

Several of the students took hold of the far chairs, pulling them closer to the couches where other students had already taken their seats. Harry followed Draco and Blaise to the remaining couch, bemused when they maneuvered him to sit in the middle without ever actually touching him.

It didn't take long for their Head of House to join them, the imposing man sweeping into the common room with a flourish. When the archway finally closed behind Professor Snape, his entire composer seemed to shift suddenly. He was still imposing, true but Harry thought that might have been purely chocked up to the man's dark features. No, it was just a more relaxed posture, as if the whole world saw only a mask of this man and only in these rooms could he truly be himself.

"Each of you," He began in soft, dulcet tones, "have something within you that made that hat believe you belong here, among us snakes." His dark gaze scanned the group before him, which Harry just noticed was not exclusive to first years. "Some of you have been here for years and I need not tell you what trials we will face. You've already been there. You've already faced them." The man's voice was very easy to listen to, Harry found. He pronounced everything so precisely and the deep tenor just added to his words. "For those of you who've only just arrived," For a brief moment, the man's eyes gazed into Harry's but the emotion in them was slightly different then it had been during dinner. It was as if he'd thought long and hard and had come to a decision. Harry saw only calm acceptance in that gaze. "I'm afraid the rest of your school career will be tumultuous at best. The other houses will ridicule you; they will demean you and throw accusations at every given turn. You are now the minority of this school. For this reason, I will _not_ tolerate any fighting between each other. If there is a problem, you will resolve it within these walls." He gestured about the common room.

"Slytherin's number one rule; protect your own. We stand as one front or _they_ will tear us apart." Harry was slightly saddened at the way the word _they_ was spoken. This was only proving his earlier thoughts on the matter. Separating the students was ignorant at best, disastrous at worst. And, herein lay the proof, a group of students who had to cling to each other while being ostracized by the rest of the student body. "With that being said; I uphold an open door policy. If something cannot be resolved among your peers, you will first go to a Prefect. If it still cannot be resolved, you may come to me but only if all other options have all been exhausted. Don't take this the wrong way, I merely wish to instill in you the ability to take care of your own problems. I understand that some things cannot be solved without the help of adults but at the same time, as Slytherin's you must also be able to take care of yourselves when no one else can come to your aid." The look in his dark gaze spoke volumes. _And it will happen_, he seemed to say and the thought appeared to be one he regretted. He cleared his throat slightly before folding his arms across his chest.

"Since it's getting rather late..." He trailed off, nodding towards the two prefects who moved forward simultaneously. The older students began making their way through the arcaded wall across the way from the common room entrance. All the girls turned right upon entering while the boys turned left. Harry soon found out why.

"If the first year boys would follow me, I'll lead everyone to the dormitories."

They followed Terence through the archway. Instead of walking down the connecting corridor, however, he led them up a flight of winding stairs hidden by the common room wall. At the top of the stairs was another corridor similar to the one below, with rows of doors to each side. There were names engraved on each door, five to a room as far as Harry could see and only one side of the hall seemed to actually be dedicated to first years.

"You'll find your name on one of these doors and your things in front of your prospective beds." A couple of the students immediately ambled down the hall to find their rooms. "Across the way," he gestured to the other half of the hall, "are the second year dorm rooms and through this door," he gestured again to the door behind him, which Harry hadn't noticed at first, "are the communal Lavatories. There are several since you'll be sharing this floor with the second and third years respectively." Once again, Terence pointed out another door on the far end of the corridor. Harry guessed it led to the third year dorm rooms. "Get some sleep. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

Harry watched as Terence descended the stairs once more before turning to find his room. He was amused to note both Draco and Blaise would be bunking with him along with Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott, the latter of whom he hadn't actually met.

"Good; we're in the same room." Draco grinned from the end of his bed and the expression was so different from what the boy displayed in public that Harry actually paused and stared. Of course, Draco immediately took this as a bad sign and began feeling his face and hair in worry. "Is there something on my face?"

"Prissy." The boy named Theodore intoned from the far side of the room.

"Oh, ha ha. I'm not prissy. Just because _some_ of us actually care if we look like slobs–" Blaise cut him off with an amused chuckle.

"Draco, you spend twenty minutes preparing to spend an hour in the shower every morning."

"I do not!"

"He does." Theodore remarked once more but had his head buried firmly in his pillow already.

Harry found his trunk at the foot of the bed between Blaise and Theodore. Gregory was already fast asleep in the first bed and like Theodore, hadn't bothered to actually get changed. How the boy had managed to fall asleep so quickly was a complete mystery to him. His raucous snores, however, would keep the rest of the boys wide awake if they didn't find a solution.

"Argh, why do we have to have a snorer?" Blaise groused as he riffled through his trunk. Draco had changed rather quickly into a set of fine, black silk pajamas and was prodding Greg with the end of his wand in an attempt to get the large boy to roll over. Harry slipped on a pair of dark green pajamas and snatched up his own wand, mentally sorting through spells in his head. He contemplated using a silencing charm but they usually wore off when cast on a magical creature. Finding a suitable charm, a wall of silence that would surround the boy's bed but could easily be passed through, Harry approached the bed of the sleeping snake. He had to remind himself to speak the spell aloud at the last minute.

"_Silencio parietis._" A silence descended on the room and Blaise sighed in relief.

"Beautiful silence!" He finished getting dressed before sliding into his own bed. Harry set his wand on the side table and glanced over at Draco, noticing the odd look the boy was giving him.

"Where did you learn that spell?" His voice was suddenly quite serious and Blaise glanced over as well. Theodore seemed to have fallen asleep once Gregory's snores were no longer in the equation.

Harry shrugged slightly, not really seeing the big deal. "Just in one of the books I've read." He tried to recall what book it had been in.

"Harry, that's not exactly a light spell." Draco didn't really seem alarmed by this fact but the concern was evident. "You can't be casting spells like that in the open. I mean, in the dungeons is fine, none of us are going to say anything but if one of the other students catch you or a teacher..." Harry got the point immediately. How could he have been so stupid! He'd gotten so used to casting spells without consequence. He needed to pay closer attention to what spells he used. Knowing more than other students was fine but knowing dark or even grey spells could get him expelled. He'd been so worried about being caught doing _wandless_ magic that he'd completely forgotten to worry about forbidden magic! And he'd just cast a grey spell, with his wand no less! Something he'd promised himself he wouldn't do.

"You're right, of course. I just didn't think about it." Draco nodded in complete understanding. It made sense he'd understand. Dark and Grey Arts were something Harry had no doubt Draco had been taught from a young age. The Malfoys were notorious supporters of Voldemort's side in the war after all, though Lucius had done a good job staying in the good graces of the Ministry.

Harry suddenly felt exhaustion wash over him and slide into his own bed, effectively ending the conversation. Draco crawled into his own bed then and whispered a soft, "Nox" sending the room into darkness.

"Goodnight, guys."

"Goodnight, Draco, Harry."

"Night." Harry muttered, already drifting off into a sound sleep, something he hadn't had in far too long.

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**AN: **_This isn't a Hermione bashing fic, or a Ron bashing fic. However, Ron won't be friends with Harry, simply because I can't see my version of Harry getting along with him (sorry Ron fans). I know it might seem like a Hermione bashing fic right now but keep in mind that when Harry first met Hermione, she was a little know-it-all and wasn't very easy to get along with. And that's canon folks, something I think I might be tearing to shreds the more I write this story. Ah, well. That's the point of AU isn't it?_

_Before anyone asks; Quirrell doesn't exist. Think about it. Voldemort was never destroyed, never became a misty corporeal spirit and therefore, never possessed the back of the man's head._

_Anyway, there's an important note on my profile page under "Updates" if anyone cares to read it. Just thought I'd throw that out there._


	4. Class Dismissed

**AN:** Sorry for the delay!  
As before...I still do not have a beta reader for this story. If you catch any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them asap. ^.^  
Also, I just wanted to thank all the readers that added this story to their favs or alert list and thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! I'm very grateful to you all!

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

**Class Dismissed**

_The foliage was vibrant and spread on endlessly around him. Light streamed through the canopy in heavy rays, glinting off particles of dust and pollen that danced passed him. Trees as wide as he was tall; indeed, so tall the tops were not visible from where he stood. The heat beneath the shelter of those leaves was sweltering in its intensity. The air so thick around him, his breath came in short bursts and he felt as though a thick cloth were being held over his mouth._

_ Feverously, he turned in circles, a strong sense of panic nearly blinding him. A twig snapped to his left and he jerked in that direction, the momentum nearly whipping him off his feet. A sudden deep voice made him gasp aloud. A burst of cold air against the back of his neck alerted him to the others location and sent his heart into a frantic tempo._

_"Hello there...my little serpent." _

Harry sat up with a lurch, shuddering and gasping for air. A strange sense of déjà vu fell over him as he gripped the sheets tightly to his chest. He felt the last fragments of the dream dissipate, even as he struggled to hold on to them. Curling forward with his head on his knees, the final words brushed through his mind, purred out by a sensual voice.

"Harry?"

The curtains to his bed pulled open slightly and Blaise's exotic face poked through.

"Ah, I thought I heard you. You may as well get up." He smirked slightly and gestured towards Draco's bed, the curtains of which were already open, revealing its empty confines. "If we go really slowly, we might finish around the same time he does." Harry couldn't help but chuckle, the dream now a distant memory.

Gathering his bathing supplies, he followed a chirpy Blaise into the shared lavatory. They were followed shortly after by a rather groggy looking Theo, who somehow managed to find an empty stall without once opening his eyes. Harry showered and quickly dressed, grabbing his satchel from the dorm. He tossed a few supplies into it just as Draco came through the door, still fussing with his hair.

"Morning, Princess. Sleep well?" Blaise teased the blonde.

"Shove off!" Draco growled, lobbing the towel at the others face. The towel was easily deflected and Blaise chortled in amusement, rolling his eyes. Before he could speak up, Prefect Higgs addressed them from the door way.  
"I suggest you wake that one up," he motioned to Greg's bed, whose curtains, Harry now noticed, were still firmly shut, "and make your way to the common room. We leave for breakfast in exactly five minutes."

It took quite a bit of prodding to get the other boy up and dressed, leaving them with barely enough time to scramble down the stairs to meet the others.

Once more, Prefect Higgs led the way through the Dungeons and this time, Harry aptly took note of the many twists and turns they encountered. _Left, right, right, left, alcove, left, right, right, left, past the statue of the Wizard he vaguely recognized as __Golpalott__. _He was starting to feel dizzy by the time they reached the Great Hall, where he happily took a seat at the long table that housed the other snakes.

Draco had situated himself just so; directly beside Harry and at the very head of the table. It was not something that slipped the small brunettes notice as he surreptitiously scanned his surroundings. He eyed the food wearily, attempting to ignore his stomach as it protested against the meager portions he'd eaten the night before. Sighing, he grabbed a piece of toast, nibbling on the edge as he scanned the rest of the hall. This food issue would need to be resolved quickly, that much was certain.

The rest of the student body stumbled in at random intervals, sometimes in groups and sometimes they'd drag themselves in alone, only to meet up with others. It was nowhere near the collected march the Slytherin first years had made but then, Harry doubted their common room was at the end of a proverbial maze. The teachers were all far more alert. He watched Professor McGonagall as she chattered with a stout, friendly looking witch beside her. Dumbledore looked out over the students with an air of genial delight but Harry felt it was nothing more than a glorified façade. Scowling slightly, he let his gaze continue down the head table but froze as his eyes met the dark orbs of his Head of House. The man's face was a stony mask that gave away nothing, leaving Harry more than slightly unsettled. He almost sighed with relief when the side doors opened, revealing the impossibly large form that was Hagrid and pulling Snape's attention away from him. A snort pulled his own attentions back to the Slytherin's, where Draco was meticulously decorating his plate with food. Occasionally, Draco's gaze would flicker up to the half giant, a look of disgust marring his features.

"What do you have against Giants?" Harry asked.

"Against Giants? Well, that's really beside the point. That's not why I don't like _him._" Draco muttered, carefully spooning eggs onto his plate.

"That's not what is sounded like yesterday." Draco's eyebrows scrunched together for a moment as he thought that over, stacking bacon slices beside the perfectly layered toast he'd placed down earlier.

"Well, I suppose it goes hand in hand. It's not that I have anything against creatures. I'm all for equal rights and all that." He paused for a moment to take a bite of his masterpiece. It seemed harmless enough but as Harry glanced around them, he noted Draco had managed to grab the attention of a good portion of their table. The pause was a ploy, placed at just the right moment to keep his audience hanging on his every last word. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes, something he suspected would become rather common place for him. When Draco spoke once more, his voice had dropped a notch in volume. Harry thought it overkill at first, until he realized the sensitivity of the subject at hand.  
"Giants are notoriously stupid, which wouldn't really be an issue if it weren't for the fact that in every war they always end up falling for the light side's manipulations. _Hagrid_ is really the worst of the lot. He's so head over heels for _Dumbledore's _ideals, he practically worships the man. It's _disgusting_. I'd wonder about his intelligence if it weren't common knowledge that he's half-stupid, so-to-speak."

Baring the dramatics and sneering, Harry could understand Draco's dislike of the man. To follow someone blindly like that, it was like signing your own death warrant. Scarier still, Harry knew that the majority of the Wizarding population in Europe were doing just that, following Dumbledore faithfully without a second thought. Although, Harry still didn't know the whole of the situation, he was starting to see the flaws in the so called "truths" the ministry liked to spew about Voldemort and his followers. He only hoped _those_ followers weren't as blinded.

"Why do you bother doing that?" Pansy chose then to speak. Apparently, her previous vow of silence was no longer in effect.

"Doing what?" Draco muttered, distracted as he used his fork to move the eggs just so.

"Why bother being so neat with your food? It's weird. Table manners are all well and good but," She glowered slightly, "don't you think that's a bit neurotic?"

"I can't help it if I have more class than you." Draco huffed in annoyance.

"Class?" She snorted derisively. "How is being obsessive compulsive classy?" The statement caused a chain reaction that Harry watched with veiled amusement. Millicent busted out laughing rather raucously, causing the upper years to sneer in their direction. Blaise snorted into his pumpkin juice, spraying some of the liquid and causing a petite blonde named Daphne Greengrass to snarl in disgust. Greg and Vincent both glared menacingly at Pansy, cracking their knuckles threateningly. Draco, to Harry's immense surprise, merely rolled his eyes and continued delicately eating his food, occasionally setting aside his fork to take a sip of juice.

The sound of thousands of owls swooping over head, forced the argument to a close as the first years stopped everything to open packages from home. Harry's eyes grew dark as he watched Millicent and Pansy giggle over the gifts their mothers had sent them, congratulations for making it into Slytherin. Draco paused to retrieve a package from the talons of a rather prim looking bird who tittered neatly before taking off once more. The blond hummed softly and unrolled a newspaper that was attached to the rest of the package.

"What'd you get, Draco?" Blaise asked in curiosity.

"The Daily Prophet? I thought your Father hated that newspaper." Pansy muttered, also looking on in interest.

Draco, however, didn't seem to be listening. His eyes scanned the front page with interest. His brow furrowed as a frown tugged on his lips. When he finished, he passed the paper on, letting the others read its contents. Harry scanned the article as well, curious at the anxious looks now plastered on the faces of his fellow snakes.

**Gringotts No Longer Safe?**

_Gringotts, whose depths are notoriously well known for being wholly impenetrable, was broken into late last night. The vault in question supposedly holds some of the oldest most valuable possessions known to Wizarding kind and resides under the Ancient and most Noble house of Peverell. Of course, since the records of this elusive family have been virtually wiped out, it's hard to conclude just what may have been stolen since no living relatives are available for questioning. We, at the Daily Prophet, would like to believe that nothing was stolen and that the Goblins and Gringotts have already accosted the thief and retrieved said object._

The article went on, interviews from wizards arguing that it simply wasn't possible for anything to have been stolen and that it was likely the culprits still resided somewhere within the bowls of the bank, where Goblins surely would have left them to fend for themselves. Harry found the entire thing to be rather morbid as they described in detail what horrible things one might encounter the deeper they went.

"Do you think it has to do with...?" Pansy trailed off at the look Draco sent her. Though Harry understood how vast the news truly was, the reactions of his classmates made very little sense to him. They were just children; such things didn't really concern them, especially since the vault technically belonged to the goblins that guarded it.

Draco glanced at him furtively before turning back to his meal, acting as if nothing had happened. Harry narrowed his eyes, watching as Blaise nervously scratched the back of his neck before he too returned to his food, avoiding Harry's gaze entirely. Pansy and Millicent turned to each other and began chatting about the first inane topic that came to mind. They were all hiding something from him, that much was very obvious but Harry also knew it wouldn't help matters to question them when they so clearly wanted to keep things quiet. Vincent and Greg seemed oblivious to the tension around them, both stuffing their faces happily as Theo looked on in morbid fascination.

"Mister Potter." Harry jumped slightly having not noticed Professor Snape make his way down the table to hand out their schedules. The man now stood behind him, the paper held loosely in his fingers as he looked on with one eyebrow arched.

"Sorry, Professor." He felt his face flush when he realized he'd been crumbling a piece of cold toast in his fingers as he contemplated the others. He brushed his hands off before reaching out to grab the paper, relieved when the man moved on without comment.

"Ah," Theo scanned his own schedule. "Potions first thing." His monotone voice hinted at nothing. Draco, on the other hand, had no issues showing his annoyance, glaring with venom at the Gryffindor table.

"With _those_ morons no less." Draco set his utensils aside then, as if the very thought had ruined his appetite. Harry's stomach rumbled in sympathy catching the undivided attention of Blaise who gave him the same piercing look he had the night before. He ignored the dark boy, standing with the other students as they began filtering out into the main hall. His small frame allowed him to maneuver through the crowd rather easily and he reached the Dungeon stairs just before his classmates. Pausing at the top stair, he allowed Draco to catch up so they could walk side-by-side, the others surrounding them thereafter. Now, with so many others around, Blaise was forced to hold his tongue, at least for the moment, just as Harry had intended. Though the boys' dark gaze never left his form completely, sending shivers down his spine.

Thankfully, the classroom was easy to spot for it was at the very beginning of the dungeons and they made it to the door without incident, at least, Harry had assumed they had until they were approached by a lanky red-head Harry vaguely recognized from the sorting.

"_Weasley._" Draco growled before the boy could even open his mouth. The boy only glanced at Draco before his attention was fixed firmly on Harry.

"_Traitor,_" He hissed._ "_How could you?" His face was twisted into an ugly scowl, red splotches clashing horribly with his hair. "_You're_ supposed to be our savor?" As if the very thought was ridiculous. "You're _nothing! _A backstabbing, _slimy snake._" There were several other students gathering around now, the Gryffindors were all glaring heatedly at him, some of them nodding along to Weasley's speech. Harry had known something like this would happen; he wasn't particularly surprised but the venom behind the boys' words, as if the small brunette had personally slaughtered half the boys' family, was slightly unexpected. Harry, however, kept his face a bored mask, appearing relaxed and uninterested in anything the boy had to say. Unfortunately, this only seemed to anger the red head even more, his teeth were clenched tight, his fists opening and closing as if any moment he would spring forward. The other Slytherins appeared just as collected as Harry but he noted several of them had their wands held seemingly loosely within their grasps, ready should anything go astray. They were not stupid enough to attack first; no, better to let the brash Gryffindors make the first move, allowing them to plead self defense. It was an unnecessary precaution at that moment, Harry realized, as the dark looming shape of their Head of House appeared behind the Gryffindors.

"What is this? No one's causing trouble I hope." Professor Snape's voice was low and menacing and Harry suspected he actually _did_ hope someone was causing trouble. In fact, he felt it would have made the man's entire day had they been. The Gryffindor's all tensed at the unspoken threat, the redhead speaking up like the brave Gryffindor the sorting hat had seen him as.

"N-not at all Professor. We were just waiting for class to start." Baring the stutter at the beginning, the boy wasn't that bad of a liar but Snape saw right through him, or else didn't care if he was truthful or not.

"Do not presume to lie to me, Mister Weasley." The man was the only human Harry had ever met that sounded even more dangerous the quieter he got. "Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek." The pale boy sputtered indignantly but before he could stick his foot in his mouth, Snape growled out, "Well, what are you waiting for?" He addressed all of the students then. "Get in the class and take your seats before I'm forced to assign my first detentions of the year!" They all scrambled to obey. Even the Slytherin's could sense their Head of House's annoyance and quickly took their seats and pulled out the necessary supplies.

Snape swept past the students in a dramatic billow of robes before stopping at the front of the room rather abruptly. Harry almost snorted out loud when the man whipped around, causing his robes to billow up once more. Though Harry thought it looked ridiculous, it seemed to be having the opposite effect on his peers who all looked sufficiently cowed by the display.

"Silence." the word was spoken softly, and for no apparent reason other then to frighten the students even further, for none had dared to utter a word since his earlier demands. "You are here to learn, not to bicker and _mingle _with your peers. I do not expect you to understand the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making." He sneered then, his dark gaze sweeping over the students, or more specifically, the Gryffindors; although his eyes did settle on Harry's form for a brief moment before he moved on. "In fact, I rather suspect most of you won't make it past your O.W.L.s." There was a mutter then and Snape immediately zoned in on the perpetrator.

"Do you have something you'd like to add, _Mister.._?"

"L-Longbot-t-tom, sir." The boy squeaked out and Harry narrowed his eyes. There was no way that boy had said anything, so why was Snape singling him out? Snape sneered once more but said nothing else on the matter and began taking roll call. Harry wasn't too surprised when he paused on his name.

"Harry Potter, how _interesting._" Harry's eyes twitched automatically as he barely kept himself from narrowing them in suspicion. The man's gaze looked downright devious as he spoke once more. "Let us see just how..._efficient_ the ministry's tutors are, shall we?" _Not at all._ Harry thought to himself. _But they don't need to know that._

"Tell me," The man continued. "What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Harry furrowed his brow. That was a rather simple question, why would the man choose something most wizards grew up knowing? Though, as he caught several of the other students' expressions, he realized that most of them were actually completely clueless.

"They're the same thing, sir. The proper name is actually aconite." There was a small quirk at the corner of the man's lip then; it could have been a smile but Harry wasn't certain.

"Perhaps something more difficult then?" The man murmured, though in the deathly silent room it was clearly audible. Harry watched the man pace several times before he stopped once more. "I'm going to give you a list of ingredients," He locked eyes with Harry once more. "And I want you to tell me what such a potion would be used for." Harry couldn't help but narrow his eyes then, wondering what exactly the man was trying to accomplish. "Wolfsbane, liquid silver, bloodroot, hellebore, powdered moonstone and finely diced Ginger Roots."

Harry blinked and let his eyes stray behind the professor. He was so surprised at the list that he did not notice the assessing look the man was giving him as he thought it over. _I've never heard of so many poisonous ingredients being used at once._ He furrowed his brow as he thought about how such ingredients would react with each other. His first thought was, "something with which to kill your enemy." But he didn't really believe the man would openly tell a classroom full of children the ingredients to something so dangerous. _The Wolfsbane and Hellebore would balance each other out. The Moonstone..._

"Ah, a shame," The man spoke, startling him out of his musings. Before he could continue, Harry interrupted.

"Something to suppress." Snape froze then, adopting a strangely blank look.

"It's odd that you should say that, Mister Potter." He spoke evenly. "Most would come to the conclusion that it would poison. I'm curious to your reasoning." Harry shook his head slightly, his gaze still glazed over as he thought.

"As long as they were prepared properly, the Wolfsbane and Helebore would counteract each other while still retaining their base components. The bloodroot would force the drinker to stay calm. The moonstone would allow for balanced emotions and in combination with Ginger roots would repress natural impulses." Harry frowned. There was something off about this potion. In all, it sounded like a liquid form of the imperious. He locked eyes with the professor, who was definitely smirking at that point. The Gryffindors looked terrified, while his fellow Slytherins looked on in apparent interest.

"You're missing an ingredient, Mister Potter." _Missing an ingredient? Oh, right...the liquid silver. But why would anyone want to consume such a poisonous..._ His eyes widened.

"It's not meant to suppress a _human, _but the _instinct_ of an animal." Professor Snape arched his brow slightly and Harry elaborated further his gaze drifting once more as he spoke his inner musings. "Liquid silver isn't actually silver; it's mercury so its attributes are very different, even to be the exact opposite." Harry's bright eyes snapped to attention then, startling many students who had been staring at him since he'd begun his explanation. "This potion isn't in any book, is it Professor?" Snape did not deign to answer verbally; he merely tilted his head slightly and addressed the rest of the class.

"For the rest of you impudent runts, I can only pray that you learn even half of what Mister Potter has displayed." His trademark sneer fell into place once more. "I doubt I should be so lucky. Class is dismissed!" He barked the last bit causing the students to jump at the abrupt noise and scramble to collect their things. Harry lingered slightly behind, wanting very much to know if he was actually correct. The potion he was thinking of, though well known to any potions expert, was strictly monitored, for obvious reasons. Blaise nudged him slightly to get his attention as the last of the students retreated.

"You coming, Harry?"

"Yeah, in a minute." The boy looked bemused for a moment but nodded and headed out the door regardless, likely waiting in the hall for Harry to finish.

"What is it, Mister Potter." The man was hunched over his desk as Harry approached, sorting through a pile of papers but he paused once Harry was finally standing before him.

"That potion." Snape looked up with that strangely blank mask once more. "It wouldn't happen to be called Wolfsbane, would it?" The dark man surprised Harry then when he let out a quiet chuckle.

"You surprise me, Mister Potter. I was not expecting a ward of the Ministry to be interested in such things." Harry scowled. His association with the Ministry was proving to be troublesome. People saw him now and instantly assumed he followed the mass of idiots that alleged to be "helping" their world.

"There are a lot of things about the ministry that I've never quite understood." Harry spoke softly, choosing his words carefully in hopes that the man before him was as intelligent as the rumors claimed.

"I see." Snape's gaze was steady, if not thoughtful and Harry felt it was a good sign. "Ten points to Slytherin, Mister Potter." The man's lip twitched as if he wanted to smile but he schooled his features once more. "You should hurry, lest you lose them by being late to your next class." He drawled and Harry was quick to obey.

The rest of Harry's day passed without a hitch. He ignored the glares and mutterings from the other houses and listened to each of his professors as they informed their students what to expect from the lessons. By the time Dinner rolled around, Harry was feeling rather irritable. The professors weren't poor teachers but the majority of the content they would be covering, he'd already learned on his own.

"You seem agitated." Blaise nudged him slightly as they walked down the hall, headed for dinner. The sudden contact sent a strange sensation down his spine and Harry stopped walking entirely. He blinked as he glanced around them in trepidation. Somehow, he'd been so lost in his musings he'd managed to lose track of the others. He was left alone with Blaise, something he'd been avoiding as soon as he'd noticed the odd looks he'd been getting during meals. The last thing he wanted was for someone to start interrogating him.

"Right, I guess so." He muttered.

"You haven't eaten much either. You look a little pale." Harry ran a hand through his muzzled locks, startled when he noticed both trembling. He clenched them slightly and crossed them over his torso before looking up. Blaise held a calculating glint in his eye, his lips pursed as he contemplated something. "Wanna skip the great hall?" Harry stared incredulously. Why would Blaise offer for him to skip dinner entirely? Hadn't he just commented that he wasn't eating enough? The darker boy just grinned and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him down the hallway. The skin on skin contact sent a sharp pulse of energy into his body that made him gasp out loud but the taller boy didn't seem to have noticed. He continued tugging him down several corridors seemingly at random before stopping in front of a still painting. The painting was much different from the many portraits that lined the school halls. It was a simple bowl of fruit with no obvious magical connection as far as Harry could tell, though he could feel the tell-tale buzz magic left behind humming just beneath its surface.

"I wasn't sure if I would be able to find it or not." Blaise grinned, finally releasing his hand. A tingling sensation was left behind, though it was not unpleasant. Reaching forward, Blaise ran a finger across the soft yellow pigment of the pear which, much to Harry's astonishment, giggled and morphed into what looked like a door handle. Blaise grasped onto it with a triumphant smile and pushed forward. "Welcome to the kitchens."

The room looked like a replica of the great hall, with rows of tables all lined with food, though the tables weren't as elaborate as the ones above them. Unlike the real hall, this one housed a great many stoves and tables along its edges where, Harry now noticed, hundreds of house elves were scurrying to-and-fro preparing the nights dishes.

"House elves." Harry muttered to himself, though Blaise watched him carefully. "The school uses house elves?" He thought about that for a moment, realizing _Hogwarts; A History_ had briefly mentioned this but Harry had skimmed over the information without much thought, not deeming it very important. He frowned as one of the creatures scurried over to them.

"It is a hoggy student, it is!" She exclaimed happily. Or, at least Harry assumed it was female with the pale pink bow wrapped over one ear. "Mina, is being happy to gets you something to eat! Hoggy students should be eating with the others but Mina not mind feeding them here!" She cooed happily, ushering both boys to an empty table off to the side before scurrying to place plates and food before them. "Yous be eating now!" She clapped happily before bowing and running off to help the others once more. Harry watched the tiny creatures for a moment longer, wondering how it made him feel. Not the fact that Hogwarts used house elves, that thought really didn't faze him in the least; the little beings wouldn't have it any other way after all. He simply wasn't sure how this changed his rules, or if it even did. On the one hand, he could visually see the elves cooking and they were far from being malevolent creatures, quite the opposite in fact. On the other hand, a house elf was bound to any task its master ordered. _But these are the schools elves._ A soft voice reasoned in the back of his mind. Before he could contemplate it any further an amused voice cut in.

"Eat something, Harry." Blaise pushed a plate of chicken forward. Harry struggled a few more moments, his paranoia so engraved in his mind that it was hard to ignore it. He finally placed a small piece of chicken on his plate. His companion smiled faintly and nudged the bowl of mashed potatoes over as well. Harry couldn't help but glare at the boy but the happy grin he sent back had him grabbing the spoon with a sigh, adding some of that dish as well. When Blaise went to push a bowl of green beans his way, Harry actually growled.

"Just eat your food and wipe that ridiculous grin off your face." The comment didn't seem to deter the boy, though he didn't push Harry into actually spooning any of the vegetables onto his plate. The two of them ate in companionable silence, Blaise occasionally sending a subtle glance at Harry's plate to make sure he was actually eating. Harry had to admit, the food was delicious and he was hard pressed not to enjoy himself as he nibbled on the chicken and sipped on what he assumed was some sort of juice. His stomach, which he hadn't realized had begun to feel quite pained, was finally settling.

The rest of the evening was spent comfortably and in relative silence, only a couple mutterings about the day's classes marring it here and there. When they'd finished they retreated back to the common room, Harry leading the way since Blaise still hadn't memorized the many twists and turns. Their classmates greeted them with curious looks but said nothing on the matter. After reviewing the day with several other first years, Draco among them, Harry found himself curled up in bed once more. He drifted off into a pleasant sleep that, for once, was not riddled with strange dreams whose meanings he could never quite grasp.

The next day dawned much the same as the previous, though the classes varied from before. Harry followed Blaise and Draco to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Whispered rumors had started in the common room and expanded into ridiculous tales by the time breakfast had appeared before them. However, Harry knew that each rumor was born on a grain of truth and the one variable that hadn't changed was the fact that the Defense Professor had not been at the post the day before and had only arrived that morning. This meant their class was actually the first of the year, so no one knew what to expect.

So, with a sense of curiosity, Harry entered the room with his fellow Slytherins. His eyes rolled automatically when Draco sneered at the Gryffindors already seated. Of course, the nasty looks they threw back didn't help matters. Harry suspected the class would be similar to Potions, at least in that regard, but was cut out of his musings rather abruptly. His eyes locked with pearlescent orbs across from him and he felt his body freeze.

"Good evening, Harrison." Riska's smile appeared even more shark-like in the bright morning light that streamed through the windows. It was odd. Though he'd always felt a sort of unease around her, he'd never felt the swell of panic which suddenly overwhelmed him. Something in the very back of his mind was telling him to retreat, to find safe ground, and it was all he could do to keep from obeying it.

"Sit down, if you would." Harry felt his body jerkily comply, and found he'd automatically sat directly beside Blaise. Somehow, having the boys' presence so near seemed to help take the edge off the feeling of dread.

Once the students had all taken their seats, Riska began her own synopsis of the year. Harry could tell both Blaise and Draco where trying to catch his attention, to question him, but he could not tear his eyes away from the woman gesturing in front of him. He felt an irrational fear that, should he look away, something horrible might happen. By the time the class had come to a close, Harry felt ridiculously exhausted, as if he's just run a ten mile marathon.

"Class is dismissed" Riska's voice rang out and the students shuffled to get to their next course. It was only once they'd reached the next room that Harry seemed to snap out of his daze.

"You alright, Harry?" Blaise's sharp gaze was assessing him carefully, as if looking for some sort of injury. Before he could answer, Draco spoke up.

"You know Professor Summers?" It took Harry a moment to realize he was referring to Riska.

"Yeah, she was one of the Ministry tutor's I had." Then, almost as an afterthought, "I didn't realize she'd be working here."

Both Draco and Blaise spent the rest of the day attempting to get more information out of Harry. When nothing was forthcoming, the two shared a look that, had Harry actually been paying attention, he would have recognized immediately. They would stop questioning him directly, but they would find their answers.

Harry, for his part, felt completely lost. It was odd, as he knew he'd felt fine that morning and there was no reason for his sudden apathy. He felt tired, drained, and strangely emotionless. A part of him knew he should be alarmed at this, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

He spent the rest of the day on autopilot. He ate small portions during meals (much to Blaise's satisfaction) studiously took notes in all his classes, but he wasn't actually there. Draco and Blaise watched with narrowed eyes, his reactions to everything around him. Each time Professor Summer's passed them, Harry's response did not go unnoticed by the two cunning Slytherin's. His eyes would take on a glazed look and his body seemed to tense painfully as if he were fighting the urge to bolt.

Over a month passed in this way and both boys knew something was terribly off. Though Harry was emotionless during the day, he'd get worse the moment he stepped foot into the defense classroom. It was obvious that Professor Summer's had something to do with it, but neither had come up with any information on the woman. They'd shadow her during the weekends, watching with narrowed eyes as she spent most of her free time in the restricted section, a crooked smile on her sharp features. The more time passed, the more intent she became on Harry. Where before, she didn't seem to notice anything amiss, she was suddenly watching him during meals as a prey might their next meal. She seemed to appear where ever they happened to be, and it was only while they were in their common room that they seemed safe from her presence.

According to Draco's father, she _had_ no records, which, for a Ministry official, was unheard of. Of course, asking a father for such delicate information leads to questions, something both boys had decided was a necessary evil since they had found nothing on their own. Draco had reluctantly divulged what information they had gathered, knowing his father would likely tell them they were overreacting. He was quite surprised, therefore, when the man informed them to keep supplying him with updates on the boys' condition, which was quickly declining.

Harry never slept. It was the first thing that had clued them in to his condition. As the days wore on, the circles around his eyes got darker and darker. Harry rarely ate much. Blaise was the most distressed by this as he'd only just gotten the boy to eat at all. He was thin and his skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor. Harry never spoke. At first, he'd quietly add a few comments during conversations but as time wore on he'd taken to only replying when directly spoken to before he stopped speaking entirely. It was as if he'd gone mute and they would have assumed he had if it wasn't for one factor; Defense Against the Dark Arts. All Riska had to say was, "answer the question, Harrison." and, unlike the classes before, Harry would answer in a monotone voice.

None of the other teachers seemed to find it too odd. They assumed he was just quiet to begin with and had simply stopped calling on him in class. Severus Snape, on the other hand, knew that was far from the truth. He too, began to watch the boy closely and, after the third detention he'd assigned (the boy refused to reply when he asked questions. Of course, he'd punish such insolence, especially from one of his own.) he had cornered Draco and Blaise for questioning.

"What on earth is wrong with Potter?" he growled out impatiently when the two stood silently in front of him. Draco and Blaise exchanged unreadable glances.

"You've noticed that?" Blaise grunted when Draco elbowed him, glaring at the sheepish expression he gave him.

"How could I not?" Snape's mouth was a thin line of annoyance. "The boy is a walking zombie."

"We don't really know." Draco said slowly, refusing to make eye contact with his head of house. Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You're lying." It was not a question and Draco knew from his father that Severus Snape was not someone to trifle with.

"Well, we only know a little." He admitted, though he didn't elaborate.

"_Tell me, now_." Snape's voice had taken on a dangerous tone but Draco wasn't convinced just yet.

"You have to promise not to go to Dumbledore." Draco boldly stated, staring up into those dark eyes with a determination he only half felt.

"I see." A dark eyebrow arched in assessment of the two children before him. A moment passed, both boys practically holding their breath in anticipation. "Very well." Snape gestured for the two to follow him, leading them through a side door off the classroom and into his private study. The door closed behind them, locking in place as Snape began warding the room.

"I suspect," the man spoke lowly. "This is somehow connected to a rather, peculiar letter I received from Lucius the other evening."

"My father wrote you?" Draco questioned uneasily. Snape ignored the question.

"Where is the boy, now?" He asked. Blaise answered readily.

"He's sleeping." He shook his head. "Well, he's lying down at least. I doubt he's actually sleeping." Snape nodded slowly and then proceeded to shock both boys into silence.

"I, Severus Tobias Snape, do hereby vow not to divulge any information about Harrison James Potter's current condition to anyone outside this room without the express permission of those involved. This I so do swear upon my magic." Both boys stood gaping for a moment before Snape's arched eyebrow had them speaking at once.

"So mote it be." They managed shakily, watching as a thin stream of gold light wrapped around the rooms' occupants before dissipating.

"Your father informed me you might seek out my aid. When you did not, I decided to force your hand." He smirked lightly before continuing in a more serious tone. "However, he also informed me that it was a very…delicate situation you've found yourselves in, and that I should employ whatever means necessary to insure this information did not reach…unfavorable ears."

Both boys exchanged weary glances then, thinking along the same lines. Draco was again, the first to speak.

"Does this have something to do with…" He trailed off as Snape nodded slightly.

"It is very likely, yes." He stared intently at the two before him. "The Dark Lord does not want anything to happen to the boy. Something is obviously wrong and he wants it handled with _kid gloves_." He sneered out the last part and inclined against the large mahogany desk, the angle making him appear even more imposing.

"Speak." It was one word but both boys immediately launched into their tale, switching back and forth as they explained to Snape everything they had learned since they'd started investigating. When they'd finally finished, Snape's face was a mask, though it was obvious he was contemplating everything he'd been told.

"Bring the boy here." They hesitated for a moment and Snape was about to snap at them when Blaise spoke up.

"Under one circumstance," The man's eyes narrowed slightly but he nodded for Blaise to continue. "You have to stop calling him 'boy'. He doesn't like it." Blaise had started off uncertainly but the more he spoke, the more sure he became. "Every time Professor Summer's calls him that he flinches." Snape was slightly surprised by the request but acquiesced all the same.

"Very well."

The first thing Harry did upon entering the room was blink rapidly, as if waking from a long slumber. The second thing was slightly more violent. He jerked back against the door, his wand suddenly appearing in his hand and his stance defensive. Though Snape was slightly impressed at the boys instincts, he was also annoyed.

"Be still, Mr. Potter. You're safe here." Harry narrowed his eyes at the man but lowered his wand to his side, wearily taking in his surroundings. He relaxed slightly when he noticed both his friends present as well.

"Where are we?" he asked, scanning the bookshelf beside him in interest.

"My private office." Snape intoned, watching the boy with hawk eyes as he scanned the book titles in apparent interest. "If you would please take a seat, Mr. Potter." Harry sidled up to the chair directly across the desk from Snape's current spot, and perched at the edge. Out of his peripheral vision he watched his two friends take their own seats on a couch along the far wall.

"How do you feel, Mr. Potter?" Harry blinked at the odd question.

"Fine." He intoned automatically.

"Do not lie, Mr. Potter. It will only make things more difficult." Snape deadpanned. Harry wasn't sure what was going on. He felt off, like he was missing something. He was confused and not a little bit frightened but he'd be damned if he was going to tell these things to a virtual stranger, Head of House or not.

"Harry," it was Blaise that spoke his voice laced with obvious concern. This only served to confuse Harry further. Why was he even there? Why did Draco look even paler then usual and why did Blaise sound so worried? "You can trust him, Harry." Harry would have scoffed but Draco chose to chime in then.

"He took a vow, Harry. Anything you tell him, he's not allowed to divulge to anyone outside this room." That seemed like such an odd thing for a teacher to do. Harry felt like his head was going to explode. He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled it with a groan, his confusion only intensifying.

"I don't understand…" His voice was quiet, but carried in the silence of the room.

"You are confused." Snape said. It was not a question.

"It feels like…something's missing." Snape looked alarmed for a moment before masking his expression and rounding the desk to crouch before the small boy.

"What day is it?" Snape asked suddenly and Harry looked up with a frown.

"Saturday." He answered in confusion. Snape nodded then, glad Harry wasn't missing time at the least.

"Mr. Potter, you have been afflicted somehow, though we cannot be sure of any details." From the corner he heard Draco snort and mutter something along the lines of _kid gloves my arse._ Snape scowled at the blond.

"If you have nothing helpful to add, Mr. Malfoy, you may take your leave." Harry looked panicked for a moment but Draco didn't budge.

"Why are you confused, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"I don't know. Something's not right. I…" Harry rubbed his face in frustration.

"What do you remember from the past month?" Harry looked up in shock.

"It's been a month?" Snape narrowed his eyes.

"What's the date?" He retaliated with his own question.

"I don't know. I haven't really been paying attention. I just know its Saturday." He admitted.

"Perhaps, Mr. Potter," Snape stood up from the crouch he'd been in and walked back to his chair, "your friends should tell you a little story." Blaise looked uneasy at the idea, but Draco nodded and stood to sit beside Harry. It took them an hour to explain to Harry, everything they'd been witnessing, interrupted on several occasions by Harry's questions.

"I don't understand," he spoke when they'd finally finished their tale. "She's never had that sort of affect on me in the past. Why now? What's different?"

"Those are very good questions, Mr. Potter and I intend to find out just that." Snape stood from his spot at his desk, arms automatically crossing over his chest. "For now, I'd like to test something, but I'll need your permission to do so." Harry hesitated. The fact that Snape was asking for his permission to do, whatever it was he wanted to do, helped slightly. Most adults never bothered.

"What, exactly, are you testing?" he asked.

"I'd like to test your mindscape for any inconsistencies." Snape replied honestly. Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. To any normal eleven year old, that was an innocent enough request but Harry was not normal.

"You want to use Legilimency on me." Harry didn't even pretend he was clueless. The situation was far too severe. Blaise and Draco looked confused, neither having heard the term. Snape, for his part, kept his mask up through his surprise of hearing the term cross such a young boys lips.

"It's not quite as invasive as you're thinking. Though, it is a form of Legilimency, yes." Again, Snape knew that lying now would be a bad idea.

"What does it entail?" Harry asked quietly; obviously still uneasy with the idea. Snape narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't normally bother trying to explain such a thing to one so young but Harry was beginning to show he was much more then what others perceived.

"It is similar only in that I'll require eye contact but," he emphasized the next part, knowing it was what had the boy so uneasy. "It will not be your memories I'll be looking at."

"Will it hurt?" Harry asked aloud, though he hadn't meant to.

"It should not hurt, but it may feel odd. You will see what I see." Snape allowed that information to sink in. Finally, Harry nodded shortly. After shooing Draco back to the couch with Blaise, Snape arranged the second guest chair so it was directly facing Harry and took a seat before him.

"Now, you'll need to relax. It won't hurt if you do not, but it may take longer and I have a feeling you want this to be over as soon as possible." Harry nodded once and scooted further into the chair until his back was leaning comfortably against the material. He relaxed his body as much as he could before locking eyes with the dark gaze in front of him. Snape did not use his wand or utter any words but Harry felt the moment his mind collided with his own.

As Snape had predicted, it was not painful but it was highly disorienting when he could suddenly see another image superimposed over the image of Snapes office. A soft voice in the back of his mind gave him quick instructions. Though he recognized the voice as belonging to the man in front of him, it was somehow less imposing in this form. '_You must ignore my office but do not close your eyes.'_ At first, the idea seemed ridiculous and nothing short of impossible but a moment passed and Harry started to get the hang of it, the image of the room slowly fading into the background as an annoying sound might. He was left standing on a plateau overlooking a valley. The ground riddled with cracks as if it had been dry there for many seasons. Though, instead of the expected tan color, everything was in shades of gray. Even the sky was clouded in a gray fog. It was utterly depressing.

"You have…a very bleak mindscape, Mr. Potter." Harry jumped at the voice right beside him, turning quickly to see Professor Snape standing there, staring around the space calculatingly. "No matter," he continued. "Since this is not my mindscape, I'm not familiar with it as you are."

"I've never been here before." Harry too had begun to scan the area with interest.

"That is beside the point." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as if composing himself. "Everything you see here is inside your head. Whether you were knowingly aware of it or not, it has always been there. You are intimately familiar with it, even if only on an unconscious level." Snape explained and Harry found himself intrigued despite the circumstance. "For that reason, only you can say if something does not belong." Snape admitted. "I would have sent you in alone, but it would have most likely taken me months just to get you to this point. It's much faster this way." Harry nodded slowly, still assessing the space.

"Something does feel wrong." Snape gestured for him to continue. "But it's nothing I can see all the time."

"What are you referring to?" Snape questioned. Everything in the space looked eerily dead and strangely the same to him. This didn't seem to be bothering Harry in the least however, so he refrained from panicking. Harry pointed to the edge of the cliff where, Snape only just noticed, a small red flower was blooming. Only, it wasn't always in color. It would pulse in a steady stream of light then flicker off, blending in seamlessly with the grey surroundings.

"Hmm, something is causing it to turn gray?" Snape questioned to himself but Harry interrupted.

"No," he said quietly, slowly approaching the flower, which seemed to be some sort of dessert paintbrush. "Something's making it turn red."


End file.
